


Prove It

by kels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read, Samifer Big Bang 2014, So Sorry about that, also more drama and angst than action haha, graphic depictions of violence maybe?, more gen tahn romance oops, more like dean gets beat up and lucifer's vessel is rotting slowly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kels/pseuds/kels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first Big Bang! My beta kind of dropped the ball, so this is entirely beta-free.  Sorry about that.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Prove It

**Author's Note:**

> My first Big Bang! My beta kind of dropped the ball, so this is entirely beta-free. Sorry about that.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Sam can tell that he's dreaming almost immediately.

He has always been able to tell when he's dreaming, ever since he was a small child. It gave him some control over his dreams (he'd always been particularly fond of flying). Once he had even walked the hotel room while he, his brother, and his father had all still been sleeping. And once he had walked right out of the town and hadn't woken up for almost 48 hours.

The doctors had called it lucid dreaming, his father had called it dream walking.

Sam can't help but wonder if it was the demon blood did this to him, too.

Tonight, though, Sam knows it is a dream. But he knows he has no control this time.

"Evening, Sam," Lucifer greets from his spot in the middle of Sam's hotel room. Sam is standing some feet away, and when he looks over to the beds, he sees himself and Dean both sleeping peacefully, their faces blurred and out of focus. Sam swallows thickly, sees as his sleeping body does the same.

"What do you want?" Sam demands, feeling small despite having almost four inches on Lucifer's current vessel.

Lucifer stares blankly. "I just want to talk to you, Sam," he says. "This is an interesting trick of yours."

"I've always been able to do this," Sam says. Defends? He's not sure what he'd be defending. "Where have you taken me?"

"We're in a place your mind has created," Lucifer says, looking around the room. The tacky wallpaper blends together in an offensive mixture of orange and green, turning into a mucky brown in some parts where Sam's memory fogs. "I assume it has something to do with where you and your brother are staying."

Sam tenses. "What do you want?" He repeats.

"There are many things I want," he admits. "I want to rid the world of its cancer," he takes a step toward Sam, who cannot for the life of him seem to move. Lucifer continues. "I want to return this earth into the beautiful landscape that it was when my father first created it," another step, "I want to show my brother just how grave of a mistake he made when he turned his back on me," one more step, "Most of all...I want to reclaim my rightful place in Heaven. I want to go home." He looks up into Sam's eyes. "But I can't do any of that without you, Sam. I need you."

"I will never say yes to you," Sam hisses, hoping he sounds braver than he feels.

Lucifer crosses his arms over his chest. The movements are forced and stiff, looking awkward and uncomfortable, like he isn't entirely sure why he is crossing his arms, only that the situation apparently calls for it. For a brief second, Sam is reminded of Castiel.

After a moment of silence, Lucifer says "I admire you, Sam. While I don't understand your need to protect a world that has done nothing but beat you down, I know that, had it been anyone else, they would have given up by now. But not you." He tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing at Sam.

Sam waits, but when Lucifer makes no move to continue, he asks, "What do you mean? Beat me down?"

Lucifer shrugs. Like crossing his arms it is awkward. "No one would blame you if you turned your back on them, Sam," he says. "You have been put through so much. I can feel your anger, your rage, your pain." He steps even closer, less than an arm's reach away and _Sam still cannot move._ "Stronger men have broken over less."

"I'm not going to let you end the world," Sam says. "I won't do it."

Lucifer hums. "And why not?"

"Because people are good."

Lucifer blinks, slow and calculating. "No from my perspective."

"Your perspective is skewed."

In an instant, Sam's chin is being gripped between Lucifer's cold fingers, his face inches from his own. Cold fear stabs at Sam's gut and he holds his breath, feeling all of two inches tall. The fallen angel's face is dark, but a bright light is twisting dangerously behind his vessel's blue eyes. Sam has seen light similar to it in Castiel's eyes, recognizes it as the angels fury it is, and shrinks away. Goosebumps raise on his skin as he shakes from the cold and the fear.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees Dean stir in his bed.

"You should watch your tone," Lucifer says calmly. Sam knows his entire being is giving away how truly terrified he is, but he cannot bring himself to calm the shaking.

"You promised you'd never hurt me," Sam whispers past the ice in his throat.

"I did," Lucifer agrees. "And I never will." Lucifer pauses, ice cold fingers slowly slipping off Sam's chin, almost stroking.

They are silent for a long time, Sam's lugs are still tight and he can barely get enough air, but he doesn't feel like he is suffocating.

"People are good," Sam repeats weakly, barely a whisper. "I believe that. When given the choice, people are good."

Lucifer does not say anything for a long while. Sam still struggles to breath. Dean moves in the corner of Sam's eye again.

"Prove it," Lucifer challenges.

Distantly, Sam hears Dean's voice. He can see him hovering over Sam's still-sleeping body.

Before Sam can respond, Lucifer speaks. "Until next time, Sam," he promises, moving away from him and towards the door to the motel room. The further he gets, the louder Dean's voice becomes.

_"...sam..."_

Sam still can't breathe, can't move, even as warmth slowly seeps back into his bones. Dean is moving out of the corner of his eye again, and Sam can almost feel Dean's hands on his shoulders as he tries to shake him awake. He still cannot breathe and his lungs are burning.

_"...ammy? Sam..."_

He still can't breathe, can't breathe, _can't breathe--_

"Sam!"

Sam gasps, sucking in greedy breaths as he looks up into Dean's panicked face. "Dean--" he chokes, still gasping for air.

"Easy, Sam, easy!" Dean says softly, pulling Sam up into a sitting position and forcing Sam's head down between his knees. "Deep breaths, Sam, you're okay." Dean's hands are warm on Sam's knee and back where before he had been so cold, so very, very cold.

Sam coughs a few times before his breathing is steady. The rushing and pounding in Sam's ears quiets enough to where he can hear just how hard Dean is breathing as well.

"Jesus, man, I thought we were over this," Dean says shakily.

Sam swallows. "Wh-what?"

"You stopped breathing," he tells him. "Jesus, Sammy, I thought you--" He stops and shakes his head, taking his hand off Sam's knee and rubbing his face.

"Sorry," Sam says. Dean shakes his head.

"Not your fault," he says back, finally relaxing. "You tryin' to fly to the moon again, Sammy?"

Sam sits up straight with the intention of telling Dean about his dream, about Lucifer, until he notices just how exhausted he really looks. The truth dies on his tongue, and it tastes like blood and ashes.

"Yeah," he says instead. "Guess I was flying too fast." That happened a lot as a kid, too. "Sorry," he adds, because he feels like he should.

Dean stares at him for a second before he lets out an amused huff as he rubs his hand over his face again. He shakes his head and pats Sam's back. "No problem," he says, moving off Sam's bed and back into his own, presumably to go back to sleep.

Sam is still shaking a bit from the adrenaline, so he knows he is way too wired to go back to sleep. It isn't unusual, but the thought of being trapped in his own dreams with Lucifer again makes him less inclined to follow his brother's lead. Pushing off the covers, Sam throws his feet over the side of the bed.

"I'm gonna go for a walk," he says as he stands and grabs some clean clothes. "Maybe get some half-way decent coffee and some food. Want anything?"

Dean cracks and eye open and looks up at Sam. His face is neutral, but Sam does not have to be a genius to know what his brother is thinking. _Demon blood,_ his mind supplies. _He doesn't trust you. Probably never will. Never again._

"Bacon burger," Dean answers after a moment. Sam scrunches his face in disgust.

"For breakfast?"

"Hell yeah." Dean smirks and closes his eyes before he rolls over on his stomach.

"That is so--" Sam is interrupted by Dean's loud (not to mention fake, the little shit-head) snoring. Sam huffs and rolls his eyes. He uses up all the hot water in the shower before he leaves, just because he knows it will piss Dean off.

The unusual calm that came after the dream was short lived as Sam leaves the motel room and ventures into town on foot. _Prove it,_ he had said. Prove it how? How was Sam supposed to prove to the _devil_ that people were good? He looks around. There aren't many people out and about at this hour. Early morning joggers, people looking to beat traffic on their commute to work, coffee shop workers, the Denny's workers down the road, and Sam himself.

Still feeling anxious, Sam walks into the Denny's. Any fast food place that has bacon burgers would not be opening for another few hours, which leaves Sam some time to himself as he orders the Belgian Waffle Platter and coffee. The middle-aged waitress is tired looking, but she smiles at Sam and her dark skin crinkles around her eyes. She reminds him of Ellen.

_Prove it._ The words tumble back and forth in Sam's head as he watches her walk away. She walks on the sides of her feet with a slight limp. She must have been on her feet all day long.  _People are good. Prove it._

Sam looks out the window while he waits for his food. There is a man sleeping on a bus stop bench. His clothes are dirty and torn, his face covered by a hood and wild facial hair. In the background he can hear the waitresses and waiters chatting amongst themselves. He can't hear what about. Probably their hours, Sam guesses. He would complain about that, too.

When the waitress, her name tag says 'Piper', comes back with the coffee, she tells Sam that her shift is about to end.

"But one of my coworkers will serve your food, okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course," Sam says. She smiles and walks away. He watches her collect her things, say good-bye to her co-workers, and walk out the door with a white styrofoam box in her hands.

Sam doesn't think anything of it as he pours a couple bags of sugar into his coffee. Not until he sees her cross the street out of the corner of his eye. She walks to the bus stop where the homeless man is still sleeping. Piper glances around before she kneels down in front of him. Sam can't see her face from this angle, but she is moving her head, and the homeless man stirs and sits up. He lifts his arms and pats Piper on her shoulders, comfortable, like maybe...

"She's done this before," Sam whispers to himself. He watches as Piper takes the box, of what Sam assumes is food, and hands it over to the man, who takes it and sets it down beside him before he grasps her hands in his own. Sam still cannot see Piper's face, but the man's face holds nothing but gratitude and joy.

"She does it all the time," comes a voice, and Sam is startled out of his calm. A young man is standing there with Sam's food. "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on ya."

"That's okay," Sam says, and thanks him when he sets down his food. The young man looks out the window and Sam follows his gaze. Piper has left, and the man is sitting there eating sausage links and bacon with a kind of look on his face that Sam cannot quite identify. "You said she does that all the time?"

The kid nods. "Yeah. For as long as I've worked here. I always thought she was kinda crazy to, you know? I mean, she keeps doing that and he keeps coming back, 'cause he knows he'll get a free meal out of her. But," the kid shrugs. "It's hard, for me at least, to be against it when he always looks so thankful." Sam is silent as the young man walks away.

_Prove it,_ Lucifer had said. Sam told him that people were good, and really, Sam believes that, right down to his very core. If he didn't, Sam is not sure if he could have survived this long.

He begins eating his food as a list grows in his head, the name 'Piper' is at the top, and a warmth that feels almost like strength, a little bit like hope, begins to grow in his chest.

_Prove it,_ Lucifer said.

_Watch me,_ Sam thinks.

* * * * * * * * *  
* * * * * * * *

When Sam walks in his dream that night, instead of staying in the motel room, his subconscious takes him to the Denny's he had sat in that morning. The lights are on, and aside from the night shift there is no-one else there.

Lucifer is sitting across from him, looking utterly unimpressed at his surroundings.

Sam, feeling much braver than he had the night before, charges head on. "You told me to prove it," he says. "That people were good. Better than you give them credit for."

"I did," Lucifer agrees.

"There's a woman who works here, her name is Piper." And at that moment, a woman walks by, and when Sam looks up, her face is a blur of dark hair and dark skin. Sam looks around. Everyone there looks the same. Barely-there blurs made of light, color, and subconscious memory. Lucifer either is unaware or he simply does not care, but he nods, so Sam continues. "Every morning at the end of her shift, she takes a box of food and gives it to the homeless man who sleeps on that bench." He points to the bench across the street. It is dark and ominous, and the man is no longer there, but the buses are still technically running, his sleepy brain supplies, so Sam assumes that must be why.

Lucifer tilts his chin up, Sam would almost describe it as 'defiantly', and says "That is only one person."

"There are others like her," he presses. "People who make and give out care packages with food and coupons and toiletries, who make blankets and hats and socks, who run soup kitchens and loan them free suits for job interviews. There are people who help them."

Lucifer hums. "There are people who try to hurt them, too," he says. "Nobody to miss them. Easy targets. Either too intoxicated or too unstable to really know who is there to help them and who is there to set them aflame." He pauses. "Tell me, is it customary to let your war veterans live on the streets?"

Sam's teeth clench. The mockingly judgmental tone in Lucifer's voice touching a nerve he did not know he could still have in the face of the devil. He doesn't know what to say to that, so he stays silent.

Lucifer leans back in his seat. "How very interesting," he says as he crosses his arms over his chest. It is not quite as stiff or awkward as it was before, but it still looks unnatural on him. "You came here prepared, didn't you?"

"You wanted proof," Sam says. "So I'm gonna give you proof."

The corner of Lucifer's lips turn upwards in a smirk. It sends chills down Sam's spine. "Very interesting, indeed."

Sam continues. He lists off names--big ones at first, like Gandhi, Buddha (at which Lucifer makes a face), Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, Harriet Tubman, Mother Teresa, George Washington Carver, David Livingstone.

Lucifer listens patiently at first, until he starts naming names himself. Hitler, Stalin, Pope John XII, Charles Manson, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, Jezebel, Dr. Josef Mengele. Every name Sam comes up with, Lucifer has one to match. By the end of it, the sun is starting to come up through the windows and more barely-there people are making their way into the Denny's. The score, which Sam is keeping in his head, is one-zero Sam. Lucifer had not named one for Piper.

The bravery and hope that Sam had felt earlier has dwindled to near nothing by now. Lucifer, though, still looks--amused? impressed? Sam doesn't know--as he stares at him.

"I'm going to be honest, Sam, I'm impressed," he says. "I was not expecting what transpired this evening." He raps his knuckles on the counter top, making Sam flinch. "I look forward to our future nights together."

"What?" Sam says before he can stop himself. "What do you mean?" Lucifer pauses on his way out of the booth they were sitting at.

"I mean just that, Sam. These discussions, your passion...I find it all very entertaining."

"Entertaining?" Sam repeats.

Lucifer stands as Piper walks past them, unseeing, and watches her as she leaves, crosses the street, and hands over the box of food to the man on the bench.

"I'll make you a deal," Lucifer says.

"No," Sam replies immediately.

Lucifer's eyebrow quirks. "Oh? You don't even know what I was going to offer."

"You think I'm going to make a deal? With you?" Sam shakes his head. "That's the last thing I need."

"I'm hurt, Sam," he says, though his face does not show anything remotely looking like hurt, neither does his voice. "The least you could do is hear me out." Sam says nothing, so Lucifer continues. "If you can show me just what it is that you see in these humans, what it is that makes them so worth fighting for...I'll back off."

Sam takes a sharp inhale of breath. "You'll what?"

Lucifer raises his hands, palms open. "I'll back off," he says again. "No more apocalypse, no more demons. I leave the playing field. And...I won't come back."

Sam clenches and unclenches his teeth. "What's the catch?" he asks, unbelieving.

"Catch?"

"There's always a catch," Sam says. "So what do you get out of this? If I can't show you...what do you get?" He asks, although he is sure he already knows the answer.

Lucifer smirks again, and this time it makes Sam's blood run cold. "You say yes to me."

Sam gulps. That is a pretty heavy deal, he thinks. Could he do it? Does he even have a chance?

Does he even have a choice?

Lucifer interrupts his train of thought. "I'll give you time to think it over. In the mean time," he walks past Sam in the booth and towards the front door. "I'll pull my demons off your tail."

Sam jerks. "You know where I am?"

"No," Lucifer tells him. "Castiel's handiwork still holds up, despite his weakening form." Sam swallows. If Lucifer knew about Castiel's grace, what else did he know? "But, I do have demons looking for you. Did you really think I wouldn't be searching for you? My true vessel?"

Sam can feel his heart racing as Lucifer says nothing more and walks away. The front door to the Denny's chimes just as Sam wakes up. Dean is just stirring awake himself. There is a cold grip around Sam's gut, and he wants nothing more than to shake Dean awake and tell him everything. All Sam has to do is imagine the look on Dean's face when he finds out that Sam lied to him--again--and suddenly that is the last thing on Sam's mind. Rubbing his face, Sam berates himself. Just what is he doing? Making a deal with Lucifer? There is no good way for that to end. The last time Sam thought he could save the world by himself, he ended up being the one who brought Lucifer here.

He wouldn't do it. There was no way. He could not make the deal. Sam was not resourceful enough, and there was no way he could convince Lucifer that humans were worth saving. Not after, what? Millions of years trapped in a cage with nothing to do but fantasize about the day you would finally be released? That is a lot of time for grudges and hatred to fest, and Sam was...not good enough to beat that.

He rubs his eyes, the tacky wallpaper already giving him a headache. Dean groans beside him.

"What time is it?" he grumbles.

Sam grabs his phone and looks at the time. "A little past seven."

Dean groans again, burying his face in his pillow. Sam can't tell what he says, but it sounds a lot like a drawn out 'why'.

Huffing, still tense from the dream, Sam stands and grabs his clean clothes. "You should get up and go get food. I'm gonna take a shower."

"You had first shower yesterday," Dean argues, still not moving from his spot on the bed.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "I don't see you making a move to claim it. So I guess it's mine again today."

Dean groans loudly once again as Sam closes the bathroom door.

"Food," Sam says loudly. "Coffee."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Jeez."

Sam shakes his head as he strips off his sleep clothes. He's back to thinking about Lucifer's deal as he turns on the water and waits for it to warm up. Should he really risk it? Dean will kill him, or leave him, and Sam is not sure which is worse. He knows Dean will probably never trust him again, and what little trust he has been able to gain back will disappear in less than a second. But...

There's a chance, Sam thinks as he steps into the warm spray. It is small, but it is there. They could avoid the apocalypse all together. No fighting, no mass casualties, no half the world getting roasted...

"I'm gonna do it," Sam says quietly to himself. He can barely hear it over the roar of the shower head, water cascading down his back, and the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. "I'm gonna do it," he repeats. Nodding to himself, he quickly cleans himself, rinses off the soap, and steps out of the still warm shower. He dries off and gets dressed before exiting the bathroom. Dean is no longer there, but all of his stuff is, so that quells the initial panic of finding the room empty despite him remembering that he asked--or, told, rather--Dean to get food.

Taking a deep breath, he moves back to his bed and lies down. He knows he should probably wait until later that night to actually sleep and tell Lucifer that he excepts his deal, but for some reason, Sam is afraid that, should he wait too long, Lucifer will for some reason change his mind.

Closing his eyes, he makes himself comfortable, and starts counting his breaths. Before long, he's fast asleep.

Sam isn't sure where he is going, but it's very dark, and once he leaves the motel room, all he sees is a long stretch of road. When he turns back, the door to the motel room, as well as the motel itself, is gone. Sam faces forward again and gulps. _Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all,_ Sam thinks. Though with nothing else left to do, Sam moves forward.

He's walking for what feels like hours before he sees a light in the distance with a figure standing bellow it. Sam doesn't need to get closer to know who it is. He already knows that it's Lucifer.

He slowly approaches the figure under the streetlight. Once he is within speaking distance, he stops. Lucifer raises an eyebrow at him.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon," Lucifer tells him. "To be honest, I wasn't really expecting you at all."

"Well, I'm here now," Sam says. "And I wanna talk about the deal."

Lucifer's smirk is just as chilling as it was at the Denny's. "I'm listening."

Sam takes several deeps breaths before he says "Before I accept, we need to make a few things clear." Lucifer nods. Sam continues. "You pull your demons off our backs, like you said. You pull them off Castiel, too. Because I know you'd be looking for him to get to us."

"What makes you so sure about that?"

"It's what I would do."

Lucifer nods again. "Continue."

"You put the apocalypse on pause until one of us has won." Lucifer frowns at that, but stays silent. "And if you break those conditions, the deal is off."

Lucifer seems to consider this for a long while, giving Sam a long, calculating look before he seems to reach a decision.

"I'll agree to your conditions. But," he says. "Now you have to listen to mine." He waits for Sam's nod before he continues. "Every night for the foreseeable future you must tell me a least one thing that makes the human race worth saving. If I deem it unacceptable, then a point goes for me. If, somehow, you can convince me otherwise, a point goes to you."

Sam nods. "Okay. For how long?"

Lucifer hums. "First one to one hundred points wins."

Sam takes a deep breath. "Deal."

"Wonderful," Lucifer says, stepping closer to Sam. He holds out his hand. Sam stares at it for a moment before extending his own hand and gripping Lucifer's in a tight handshake. The fallen angel's hand is cool when he touches it.

Sam lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Lucifer lets go of his hand.

"See you later tonight, Sam," he says, and then Sam is waking up to the loud slamming of the motel door.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Sam bolts upright to see Dean standing by the door, one hand on the doorknob and the other holding onto a brown paper bag.

"Rise and shine," he says as he walks over to the table. He sounds and looks tense when he does, and Sam thinks this _cannot_ be good. "I brought food."

"Oh," Sam says. "Uh, thanks." He rubs his eyes as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. His head hurts and he feels groggy. This was why Sam hates taking naps. He stands slowly and moves to join Dean at the table. Dean pulls out a small burrito-shaped package and hands it to Sam once he sits down.

"You were saying some weird stuff in your sleep," Dean says, and Sam tries not to tense immediately.

"Was I?" he asks as he unwraps his food. His stomach clenches, though it has nothing to do with hunger.

"Yeah," Dean continues as he unwraps his own breakfast burrito. "It was weird. You were, like, listing off these random things."

"What things?"

Dean shrugs nonchalantly, but Sam can easily see the tension in his shoulders. He can't help the panic he feels in his chest. "I don't know. I only recognized a few words out of all the mumbling and the gibberish. But I think you were talking about angels and demons."

"Huh," Sam says. "Sounds like it must have been a bad dream."

Dean fixes him with a hard stare. "Yeah. Must've been."

Sam looks up and meets Dean's eyes, breakfast burrito halfway to his mouth. "What is it?"

Dean shakes his head and looks away. "Nothing," he says as he leans forward and takes a bite of his own food.

Sam hates it when it gets like this. They both know that the other is lying, but neither of them will admit it, so they become stuck in these tense and uncomfortable silences where they both pretend that nothing is wrong when something is _very obviously wrong._

Sam nearly jumps out of his skin when Dean's phone goes off, and Dean himself almost chokes on his bite of food.

"What?" he snaps into the receiver when he answers the phone. "Cas? What--" He's quiet, and Sam can hardly hear Castiel's gravely voice on the other and of the phone. "You--you're where?" Dean asks. His face scrunches up in confusion. "Yeah, no, I have no idea what you just said. What-what is that, Finnish?" Dean rolls his eyes and shakes his head at Sam, who is biting back a grin. "Why didn't you just tell me you were in Finland? No, don't answer that! Just, do you need me to tell you where we are?" Sam gets up and walks towards the bedside table where a brochure of the motel is resting. He grabs it and hands it to Dean, who reads off the address and the number of the room they are staying in.

Before Dean can even hang up, Castiel is in the room with only the sound of fluttering wings to alert them.

"Hey, Cas," Sam greets. The angel nods to him as he hangs up his cell phone.

"Sam. Dean. It's good to see you both."

"How's the search for God goin'?" Dean asks. Sam gives his brother a disapproving look after clearly hearing the condescending tone in his voice.

Castiel either does not notice it or chooses to ignore it. "It is...slow."

"Shocker," Dean says, taking a bite of his food. Sam gives Castiel an apologetic look.

"Hear anything in Finland?" Sam asks.

Castiel shakes his head sadly. "No. The lead I followed ended up going nowhere. All it could tell me was that God is on earth, but that's nothing I don't already know."

Sam looks down and away, wondering if Lucifer knows about Castiel searching for God.

"Do you really think you can find him?" Dean asks. Sam relaxes slightly when he hears that the condescending tone is gone.

"I think that he can't hide from us forever," Castiel answers. "And I will keep to it if it means we can avoid mass bloodshed."

Sam nods, remembering how he had thought that very same thing earlier that morning. He feels eyes on him, and when he looks up, Dean looks away quickly.

"Well, if there's any way we can help, Cas, all you have to do is ask."

"There isn't. But I appreciate the sentiment." Sam hides his smile by taking a bite out of his food.

The silence hangs in the air for a while, Sam and Dean both eating quietly while Castiel is still standing where he appeared. Sam glances back at the angel when he opens his mouth and closes it again.

"Uh, Cas?" Dean asks. "Is there...something you want to tell us?"

Castiel frowns as he stares at the ground. "I heard...whispers. While I was in Finland," he finally says, looking up at the brothers. "About Lucifer."

Sam and Dean share a look before asking simultaneously, "What did you hear?"

"I am unsure how true it all is," Castiel says quickly. "But I hear that he has been...absent, lately."

"Absent?" Sam asks.

"No demons have heard from him in some time," Castiel says.

"And where'd you hear this?" Dean asks. "A demon?"

"Yes--"

"What makes you think it's true? Demons lie, we all know that."

Castiel looks away. "I doubt very seriously that this one was lying."

Dean blinks and Sam looks away, reading the undertones in Castiel's voice loud and clear.

"But why?" Dean says. "Why would he just drop out all of a sudden? He seemed pretty adamant about ending the world."

Sam says nothing, but he can feel it when Dean's gaze turns to him. Sam refuses to look up, which, Sam knows, is all Dean needs to confirm his suspicions.

"Sam," Dean says, and it's not angry, not like Sam thought it would be. "Sam, what did you do?"

Castiel's eyes are on him now. Sam can tell by the way the skin on his neck itches like it always does when the angel stares at him.

"Dean, just let me explain--" Sam says quickly, but Dean cuts him off.

"Explain what?" he drops his burrito, forgotten. "Explain _what?_ What did you _do?"_

Sam swallows thickly. "Lucifer's been visiting me in my dreams," he starts, but Dean wastes no time cutting him off again.

"He's been _what?"_ he asks. "How long has this been going on? Why didn't you tell me when it started?"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you," Sam says.

Dean blinks. "Gee. That worked out so well."

"And it hasn't been for very long," Sam admits. "Just a couple nights. And, yeah, okay," Sam rubs his eyes. "I admit, I should have told you sooner--"

"Damn _fuckin'_ right you should have told me sooner! What--what the hell were you thinking, Sam?! Lucifer? Really?" Dean runs his fingers through his hair. "What if he read your mind, or something? Found out where we were stayin' and tried to--"

"Impossible," Castiel interrupts. Dean teeth click shut at the unexpected interruption. Sam wonders if he had forgotten about Castiel's presence entirely.

Sam frowns. "What do you mean? He was in my dreams."

Castiel narrows his eyes and furrows his brow before he begins to explain. "Reading your mind, as you put it, would involve..." He frowns, and Sam recognizes the look. It is one Lucifer wears when he cannot seem to find the correct words to explain himself.

"Cas?" Dean prompts.

"The invasion of your subconscious by an arch angel--or nearly any other angel--would surely result in your death."

It was Sam's turn to frown this time. "But what about you? And Anna? You've both been in Dean's dreams."

"The two of us are not nearly as powerful as Lucifer." Castiel says. Sam swallows thickly and nods. Castiel continues. "Invading your dreams is much easier for us because we would be less likely to harm you. Most other psychic creatures could cause harm to humans as well, were they not careful. Human psychics are the only ones capable of reading one's mind without doing much, if any, harm. Your friend Missouri being one. Humans have enough power to catch powerful thoughts or feelings, but to actually invade your mind--conscious and subconscious, long-term and short-term memory--would require a power the human mind and body is simply incapable of."

"Andy and--what was him name? Ansem?--they didn't read minds," Dean says. "They just projected stuff onto others."

Sam nods. "So, an angel would, what, have to use their grace to do something like that?"

Cas scrunches up his face. "Figuratively speaking...yes."

"The grace," Dean says. "It'd burn them up from the inside out if they weren't careful."

Castiel nods. "Yes."

"Okay," Dean says. "So no on the mind reading."

"But that doesn't explain how he was able to get into my dreams," Sam mentions again. "Wouldn't that be a form of mind reading?"

"It would," Castiel agrees. "But because of your dream walking abilities, what Lucifer is most likely doing is waiting until your subconscious has removed itself from your physical being before somehow luring it away in order to speak with you."

"So is there a way to stop Lucifer from kidnapping Sam's sleep-self?" Dean asks. Castiel furrows his brow.

"Sam would have to stop dream walking. Although," he continues before Dean can interrupt. "I'm not sure if that is entirely possible."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean snaps. Castiel's face hardens in an instant.

"It means I no longer have the capabilities in order to force Sam's subconscious to remain grounded to his body," he snaps back. "I could try, but given my weakened state, all that it would take on Lucifer's part is a little more effort than usual."

"And then it's back to dream walking," Sam finishes.

Castiel relaxes while Dean at least manages to look apologetic. "Yes."

"Is there any other way?" Dean asks.

"Sam could try to prevent himself from dream walking," Castiel suggests.

Sam shakes his head before Castiel even finishes his sentence. "I don't even know _how_ I do it, let alone how to stop myself from doing it."

"I think it's pertinent that you try," Castiel says. "Lucifer could easily make it so you can't return to your body. And that could be very dangerous."

"It could leave your body open for possession," Dean adds. "To angels or demons."

Sam swallows thickly. "I can't," he says.

Dean blinks. "And why the hell not?"

"Because it goes against his conditions."

Dean's eyebrows climb up and almost disappear into his hairline. "'Conditions'? What 'conditions', Sam?"

"He takes the demons off our tales and pauses the apocalypse, and I talk to him every night. If I welch on it then..."

Dean's face falls and Castiel's goes stone cold.

"What, Sam?"

Sam takes several deep breaths before he answers. "I have to say 'yes'."

The silence in the room is thick and angry. Sam can feel the heat rolling off Dean in waves, and Sam is sure that Castiel is not far behind.

"Sam, what in the _actual hell--!"_

"I made a deal with Lucifer," Sam interrupts. "If I can convince him that there's actually something good about us then he'll back off, permanently."

"He lied!" Dean shouts.

"He doesn't lie!" Sam argues.

"Who told you that? _Lucifer?"_ Dean scoffs. _"Wow._ Just wow, Sam. Holy _crap!_ First Ruby and now this?!"

Sam fumes, and he can feel the adrenaline in his teeth. "You think I can't do it?"

_"No! You can't!"_ Dean shouts. "Because Lucifer has been spending the past eternity hating the human race, and he's not gonna stop just because you told him about your buddies, Gandhi and Mother Teresa!" Sam says nothing, though he is sure the others in the room can hear how hard his teeth are grinding. Dean continues. "And what happens when you can't, Sam? You say yes, and--and what? Then what happens? What the--what the hell am I supposed to do?" His voice is quiet now, and his glare has turned into something less angry and more fearful, more desperate.

"Then you say yes," Sam says, and is a little shocked when he hears Castiel's voice match his own. Both hunters turn to the angel. Castiel looks less than pleased.

"While I don't agree with Sam's choices--" Sam looks away. "--if he says yes, then, Dean, you will have to as well."

Dean shakes his head. "I can't."

"You'll have to," Castiel says. "Michael is much stronger than Lucifer. He always has been. He _will_ win."

Dean continues to shake his head, but less out of denial and more out of exasperation.

"God _damn_ it, Sam," he says.

Sam is still looking down at the table when he speaks. "I get you don't believe in me, Dean, and that's fine," he says. "But this is what's happening now. And it's a long shot--"

"It's _impossible."_

"--but maybe there's a chance!"

Sam can see the muscle in Dean's jaw twitch, and right as he opens his mouth to say something, his phone goes off. Sam looks away when Dean answers it, blood pounding in his ears.

"Hello?...Hey, Bobby. Yeah, no, we just finished a job." Dean pauses. "Wyoming? Yeah, we're close." Dean stands and moves to his bed where a pad of paper and a pen rest on the nightstand. Sam stands as well and begins packing his things. He knows he and Dean are nowhere near done with their "conversation", but a job is a job, and Sam knows Dean will want to leave as soon as possible.

Dean hums and "uh-huh"s for a few more minutes while Sam is packing before he says good-bye to Bobby and hangs up. Castiel has still not moved from his spot by the table.

Sam speaks up first. "Wyoming?"

"Multiple murder-suicides in the same town, only a few days apart. Bobby thinks something might be going down. He gave me the coordinates." Dean tosses the pad of paper onto Sam's bed. Dean is silent for a moment, and then says "We're not finished here."

Sam rubs his mouth and looks at Dean. "What more do you want me to say, Dean? I've said everything already."

Dean stares at him for a moment longer before beginning to aggressively put his own things away. "Yeah. Whatever."

Sam clenches his teeth. It was going to be a long drive to Wyoming.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Castiel decides to travel with them. Sam tries not to assume that it is so the angel can keep an eye on the younger Winchester. _Keep me from making any more stupid decisions,_ he thinks. But it was hard not to. They get coffee before they leave, driving past the Denny's on the way out of town. Sam sees the homeless man eating his food at the bus stop.

The car ride is tense. Castiel's awkward presence does very little to help, and the way Dean is pointedly ignoring Sam's very being makes for an uncomfortable trip.

Despite all this, Sam keeps his eyes peeled, watching for any, small or large, acts of kindness while they are still in the city. By the time they reach the highway, Sam is still left with nothing. When it starts getting dark is when Sam starts to panic. He can't _not_ sleep. He's sure Lucifer would know Sam was purposefully avoiding him and thus void their little deal.

_I'll think of something,_ Sam thinks as he slouches in his seat in an attempt to get comfortable.

"What are you doing?" Dean says immediately. Sam flinches at the sudden loudness of it, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Dean flinch, too.

"I'm clocking out," Sam says. "Wake me when it's my turn to drive."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're not going to sleep."

Sam makes a face. "Why the hell not?"

"Cuz Lucifer will be there!"

Sam rolls his eyes. "If I don't show up he's gonna think I'm backing out, Dean. Then the apocalypse will start up all over again."

Dean says nothing, but Sam can see his jaw twitching even in the dark.

Castiel speaks up. "I could take watch if that would help."

Dean And Sam both frown. "Take watch?" Dean says. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I could come with Sam on his travels, ensure his safe return to his body, make sure Lucifer doesn't try anything."

Sam bites his lip. "Cas, I don't know..."

"Did you make any specifics about anyone traveling with you during these meetings?" Castiel asks.

Sam shakes his head. "Well, no..."

Castiel nods. "Then unless Lucifer says otherwise, I am to accompany you."

Sam nods, and feels a small pang of relief. Even though, if Lucifer really wanted Sam's dream-self, Sam doubts Castiel would stand a chance. The gesture leaves Sam feeling safer.

"It might take a while," Sam says, taking off his jacket and rolling it into a crude pillow against the window. "I've never slept well in the car." Castiel says nothing, but Sam can almost feel his nod. Dean is still silent.

After a few moment of tense silence where Sam cannot seem to relax, he says "This is happening, Dean. Think of it as an opportunity."

"An opportunity for what?"

"To find God without having to worry about the whole damn world bursting into flames."

"Sam is right, Dean," Castiel says. "With Lucifer momentarily ceasing his efforts, finding God could be easier."

Dean shakes his head. "Whatever."

Not entirely satisfied, Sam returns to his reclined position and closes his eyes. It takes some time, but eventually, Sam falls asleep.

When he opens his eyes, he is standing in the middle of a road. It is dark and empty, nothing on the sides of the road and nothing in front or behind. Castiel is standing beside him.

"Interesting," he says. "Do most of your dream-walking sessions begin this way?"

"Only when I'm sleeping in the car," Sam says as he begins walking down the road. "If we're staying at a hotel somewhere, it starts there, and then...I just start walking." Castiel says nothing, but he stays close by Sam's side.

To Sam, the walk feels longer than he knows it is, but by the time he sees a faint light in the distance, Sam swears it's been hours. He stops and takes a deep breath. He turns towards Castiel, who nods.

"I'll be by your side, Sam," he says. "He will not take you."

Sam nods back, faces forward, and continues walking. Eventually they get close enough that Sam can easily make out Lucifer's expression under the lone street light. His face seems neutral, but Sam can read his surprise in the way he immediately looks at Castiel.

"Brother," Lucifer says. "I was unaware you would be joining us."

"I am here to make sure that Sam returns safely," he says.

"This wasn't part of our deal, Sam," Lucifer says, though his eyes remain on Castiel.

"You never said I couldn't bring company," Sam says. Then, after a moment, adds, "This is mostly to keep Dean from breathing down my neck."

"Still doesn't trust you, does he?" Lucifer asks, his eyes finally locking onto Sam's. "He doesn't think you can do it."

"Don't answer that, Sam."

"Forget it," Sam says through clenched teeth. "Let's...let's get this over with so I can get some actual sleep."

Lucifer nods his head. "Go ahead. Who or what will it be tonight?"

Sam bites his lip. "Frederick Douglass," he says.

Lucifer quirks an eyebrow. "Go on."

Sam swallows. "He had escaped slavery and became a major figure in the anti-slavery movement in the eighteen-hundreds. He was a writer, and his writings helped support the ending of slavery."

"He was just one man," Lucifer says.

"Sometimes all it takes is one man."

Lucifer is silent, his calculating gaze never wandering from Sam's face. Sam himself never looks away. Castiel is tense beside him.

"Interesting," Lucifer finally says. "What else?"

"What else?" Sam repeats. "What do you mean? Did it count or not?"

"That's for me to decide."

Sam huffs. "And when do I find out? Before or after you tell me I've lost?"

Lucifer says nothing, and it makes Sam clench his teeth.

"What else do you want to know?"

Lucifer shrugs. "Anything you think might be important."

Sam digs through his memory, searching for any familiar names that might help. He comes up with a few, but Sam feels like he's floundering by the end of it.

And Sam swears Lucifer knows it, too.

The devil nods his head. "I suppose that's enough for one night," he says. Sam is already turning around before Lucifer stops him. "Oh, and, Sam?"

Sam can see the way Castiel tenses as he looks over his shoulder at the devil. "...what is it?"

"Come alone next time."

Sam whips around just as Castiel steps forward in protest, but Lucifer simply raises as hand, and it's enough to halt them both immediately.

"No," Lucifer says firmly. "This is not up for debate. You _will_ come alone. I, frankly, don't care about your brother's feelings on the matter. Unless you want to undo everything we've agreed upon, you will come here again tomorrow night and you will. Come. Alone."

Sam gulps and shivers once, harshly. Castiel trembles slightly in Sam's periphery vision. Eventually Sam nods and says "Okay. I understand."

Lucifer nods again. "Good. So glad we could agree." The corners of his lips turn upward in some bastardized smirk. "Until next time, Sam."

The sound of the car door slamming wakes him up.

Sam's eyes snap open only to close tightly against the brightness of daylight, and the sound of fading footsteps on gravel reaches his ears. A car speeds past, there's a clambering near the rear of the impala, and then the loud click of the gas pump turning on.

"Sam?" comes Castiel's voice. Sam straightens in the passenger seat and has to suppress a groan. He has a crick in his neck that he just knows is going to bother him for days.

"Next time," Sam croaks. "I call sleeping in the backseat." He turns to look at the angel. Castiel's serious face is still the same as he had seen it in his dream. Sam sighs and glances at Dean through the window. His brother is pointedly not looking at him and is instead very focus on the gas pump.

"Dean is going to be...less than pleased," Castiel says quietly, glancing from the elder Winchester to the younger.

Sam huffs. "That's one way to put it, I guess." Sighs once more, Sam opens the door and climbs out. He stretches his cramped legs and rubs at his aching neck before walking towards the tiny store. "I'm gonna hit the head," he says to Dean. "Need anything?"

"Nah, I'm good," Dean says firmly. Sam clenches and unclenches his teeth but decides against saying anything, instead just continues towards the store. He decides to buy a couple bags of beef jerky after using the bathroom, just because he feels guilty if he uses the restroom without buying anything.

_And_ because he knows Dean will steal most of his beef jerky if he doesn't buy at least two bags.

Castiel is still sitting in the back seat when Sam walks outside. Dean is standing by the driver's side door, looking out onto the road. Sam's not sure where they are.

"We almost there?" he asks once he gets close. "How long was I out?"

"Almost," Dean says. "And a while."

Sam grinds his teeth together at the purposefully vague answers. "How many more miles?"

"A few."

"Are you--" Sam scoffs. "Are you serious right now?"

Dean finally-- _finally_ \--turns to look at him. "What?"

"The vague answers? It's petulant and it's bullshit and you know it," Sam spits. He throws the extra bag of jerky at his brother's face and feels a little more satisfied at the sight of him flailing for it than he really should. The tense silence that follows does nothing to help the situation, and Sam's about to tell him what Lucifer said when a mini van with children pulls up. He gives his brother a pointed look, climbs into the car, and, even though he really, _really_ wants to, he doesn't even slam the door. Dean follows promptly and Sam takes several deep breaths as the engine roars to life. It's not until Dean has pulled back onto the highway and driven for several minutes that Sam finally speaks up.

"Lucifer doesn't want Castiel to come with me anymore." Sam watches as Dean's jaw muscles twitch under his skin.

"And why the hell not?"

"Lucifer wants to exert some sort of control of the situation, I think," Castiel says. "My being there poses a threat. Though not much of one."

Dean shakes his head and lets out a bitter laugh. "Well this--this is just great. Just great."

Sam mirrors Dean and shakes his head, looking away from his brother and out the passenger window. "He won't hurt me," Sam says.

"Right. Yeah. And, uh, who told you that? Oh, wait, let me guess. Lucifer, right?" Dean laughs again. "Cuz he's just so trustworthy."

"He hasn't lied to me yet," Sam says. "He hasn't lied to me at all."

"That you _know_ of," Dean is quick to say. Sam remains silent and just pushes up as far against his side of the car as he can.

Surprisingly, it's Castiel who breaks the silence first.

"Dean," he says cautiously. "Although this is an...unfortunate situation--"

"Understatement of the century," Dean grumbles.

Castiel ignore him. "--we should use this time productively."

Dean frowns as he glances back at Castiel through the rearview mirror. "What? What do you mean?"

"I mean," Castiel stresses. "That so far Lucifer has remained true to his word. Omens are turning up less and less, and the angles know something is wrong but they don't know what. For once, _we_ are the ones who are ahead. Who knows how long that will last."

"And what exactly do you suggest we do, Cas?" Dean snaps.

Sam can practically feel Castiel's face harden. "Perhaps be a little productive instead of finding out the next best ways the hurt each other." Sam winces, knowing at least half of that was directed at him. Dean says nothing, but he rolls his shoulders.

"Like what?"

"My search for God is not yet complete, as I said the other day" he says. "I should continue. Perhaps without demons getting in my way I could actually be somewhat successful."

"Do the demons know you're looking for Him?" Sam asks, turning to look at the angel in the backseat. Castiel shakes his head.

"No. Hopefully, that means neither does Lucifer."

Sam nods. "What about us?"

"You already have a job, Sam," Castiel says. "Hold Lucifer off as long as you possibly can." He looks at the back of Dean's head. "Perhaps you should help him."

"And how the hell would I be able to do that?"

"Give me ideas," Sam suggest. "I need to convince Lucifer that humans aren't all bad. That there's something worth saving."

"You were able to convince me," Castiel says, still looking at Dean. Sam blinks. He...hadn't known that. Dean shakes his head.

"This is different, man. You're not freakin' _Lucifer."_

"You'll come up with something," he says. "In the mean time--"

"Wait," Sam says. "Would you--I mean." He looks away. "I know Lucifer said for you not to come, but, I just...it'd really--"

"I will stay, if you wish," Castiel says gently, finally looking away from Dean and towards Sam. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to do anything in the case of an emergency, but I'll be here."

Sam gives him a weak smile. "Thanks, Cas."

Most of the remaining drive is silent, save for Sam pulling out one of their many maps once they pass a road sign. They had just entered Wyoming. Sam bites his lower lip.

"Where did Bobby say this job was?" he asks.

Dean glances at Sam before quickly looking back at the road. "Casper, Wyoming. Multiple murder-suicides. Yesterday was the third incident. Man kills his daughter and his grandson before offing himself. Neighbors say the family had been just fine that morning."

"And that was the third incident?"

"First was a pregnant woman who killed her husband and two kids before hanging herself. Second was a teenager beating his parents and his sister to death with a baseball bat before locking himself in the family garage with the car running."

"Jesus," Sam hisses.

"Yeah," Dean agrees. "There was only one police call. The teenager."

"We should listen to it once we get settled," Sam says, mostly to himself, trailing the highway line with his finger. "Or not," Sam grumbles. "Casper is still a ways away. We probably won't reach there until evening."

Dean shrugs. "No problem." He pauses. "Casper, Wyoming," he chuckles. "What?" he asks when Castiel and Sam give him a disapproving look. "You've got to admit that's funny."

"Not really," Castiel says as Sam shakes his head.

Dean huffs. "There's a sense of humor in there somewhere, I just know it." He grumbles to himself.

By the time they do reach Casper, Wyoming, it's just after ten in the evening, just as Sam suspected. It takes them much too long to find a motel--Shilo Inn, a bit nicer than most places they stay at--and when they do, both hunters are tired and grouchy. As soon as they enter their assigned room--third floor, three twins even though Castiel doesn't need to sleep--Dean stomps immediately to the coffee pot. Sam rolls his eyes and glances at Castiel.

"I'm gonna get some sleep," Sam grumbles as he tosses his pack on the bed furthest from the door, per usual. The one closest to the door already has Dean's bag on it, so Castiel sits down on the only vacant bed in the room.

Dean grunts. "Yeah, okay."

Sam quickly brushes his teeth and changes into sweatpants and a dirty t-shirt before he collapses onto the bed, barely summoning the strength to move his bag to the floor. He's almost comfortable when he feels a presence standing over him. Sighing, Sam doesn't even open his eyes when he says "Cas?"

Silence. Then, "Yes, Sam?"

"Could you, maybe, wait? At least until after I fall asleep before you start hovering? It's just, you know--"

"I understand," Castiel says. "My apologies." Sam can feel the air shift as Castiel moves several steps back.

"Thanks, Cas."

"Of course."

"Say hi to Satan for me," Dean says.

Sam clenches his teeth. "Will do." It doesn't take nearly as long as Sam thought it would to fall asleep, and in no time at all Sam is standing outside the motel and by the road, his bare feet numb to the gravel and the cold concrete. He is surrounded by the muted scent of cheap store-brand detergent even as he walks out of the small Wyoming town and onto the highway. It doesn't take long for Sam to see the faint light in the distance.

Lucifer is waiting, as always. His vessel still looks the same as it did that first night with Jess. His skin still crawls at the thought.

"Sam," Lucifer greets.

"Dean says hi," Sam tells him.

Lucifer blinks in what Sam would almost call surprise. "...what?"

"Dean. He, uh," Sam rolls his eyes. "Never mind."

Lucifer frowns for a moment, but says nothing and instead focuses all his attention on Sam. "So, Sam. What will it be tonight? Another world leader? A peaceful protestor? A poet? Perhaps this time it will be a hooker with a heart of gold, hm?"

Sam opens and closes his mouth for several moments, all the while Lucifer watches with an amused expression. Until Sam finally says. "Coffee."

Lucifer's frown reappears. "Pardon?"

"Coffee," Sam repeats.

Lucifer's expression remains the same. "No."

"No? What do you mean 'no'?" Sam challenges. "Have you ever had coffee?" Lucifer says nothing to that. "I'll take that as a no, then. Here," Sam takes a step closer. "Try it. Just once."

"Why?"

"Because! You can't just say no to coffee if you've never even tried it. Just walk into a coffee shop and ask for the special. They'll make it for you."

Lucifer narrows his eyes at Sam before moving his weight from one foot to the other, something Sam is sure he learned from watching him. "What else?" Lucifer asks.

"I'm not gonna tell you anything else until you try the coffee."

Lucifer crosses his arms, something he seems to favor, now that Sam thinks about it. "And if I don't like it?"

"Then I guess that's a point against me, isn't it?"

Lucifer narrows his eyes, but eventually nods.

"Keep in mind," Sam continues. "There's lots of different types of coffee--"

"One coffee," Lucifer interrupts. "And then I make my decision."

Sam manages to hold back a gulp. "Yeah, okay." They stand there in silence for a moment, just staring at one another. Sam can hear the muffled sound of talking in the distance and wonders if Lucifer can hear it, too. Lucifer looks up at the starless sky and tilts his head to the side. He doesn't say anything. Sam wakes up slowly and gradually for the first time in what feels like forever.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

"It could be a number of things," comes Castiel's voice through the half-asleep haze of Sam's mind. "A coven of witches--"

Sam swears he can hear Dean roll his eyes. "Great."

"--or a group of demons."

Sam opens his eyes in time to see Dean throw his hands up in the air. "Even better."

Sam sighs and sits up in his bed. "Don't forget spirits," he says as he pushes the covers down to his feet. "If they're mad enough they could easily pull off something like this."

"Multiple spirit possessions though?" Dean asks, not looking up from Sam's laptop on the small kitchen table. "Unless it's like that ghost sickness we ran into last year, that's unlikely."

"Unlikely, yeah, but not impossible," Sam prompts.

Dean huffs and rubs his forehead. "Yeah, yeah."

"Perhaps we should look at the bodies," Castiel suggest. "I might be able to make a more informed opinion once we analyze the hosts."

Sam and Dean share a look.

"FBI?" Sam asks.

"FBI," Dean agrees as he closes the laptop and walks to his own bed. "Man, I get tired of the same old talk and dance. Why can't we ever be, I dunno, body guards at a strip joint?"

"Because you'd be too distracted by the strippers to actually, you know, do your job," Sam replies as he climbs out of bed.

Dean shrugs as he rummages through his pack, pulling out two FBI badges, tossing one of them to Castiel. Sam pauses on his way to the bathroom and raises an eyebrow.

"When did this happen?" he asks.

Dean doesn't look up from his pack when he answers. "When we were on our little break. Needed to get some information. God, that was a train wreck."

"I feel that I did fairly well," Castiel argues. Sam can't help but chuckle despite the tension in his shoulders.

Dean scoffs. "No. You really didn't."

Once Sam is fresh and dressed, Dean follows and soon, the three of them are on their way to the police station, with Sam flipping through Dean's notes.

"First victims," he reads. "Mr. Collin Dagger, his twelve year old daughter, Melissa, and his seven year old son, Junior. The husband was found with his hands bound to the headboard of the bed. All three of them were strangled to death."

"And then the wife, Dr. Wendy Dagger, hung herself," Dean finishes.

"Right," Sam says. "The second victims: Mr. Gale Koffee, Mrs. Jordan Koffee, and nine year old Jasmine Koffee."

"The son, Zack, he was the one who called the police," Dean reminds. "We need to ask about that once we get there."

Sam nods. "And the final family. The Atkins. 27-year old Emma and nine-year old Jake were found bound in the living room and shot to death. David Atkins later shot himself."

"That's eleven deaths total. Twelve if you count the one unborn victim," Dean says. He shakes his head. "I don't know. This seems too bloody to be a witch."

"Most witches we've run into are usually in it for personal gain," Sam thinks out loud. "What would they have to gain from all these deaths? None of the families have anything in common other than living in the same town."

"I think it's a long shot of it being a ghost," Dean says.

"Whatever it is," Castiel says from the backseat. "It might strike again soon. The first two killings happened a week apart. The third killing happened only four days after the second."

"And it's been two days since the last one," Sam says, closing the notepad and shaking his head. "We gotta figure this one out fast."

Dean hums in agreement as the pulling into the parking lot of the station. "Did you notice in David Atkins' file? Old drunken disorderly and domestic abuse charges, spent quite a few nights in the drunk tank."

"You think that could be a connection?" Sam asks.

"I dunno, but it's a start," Dean says as the three of them walking into the building. "See if Dr. Dagger and Zack Koffee had any bad habits. Maybe it made them targets."

Their serious expressions and their suits get the attention of a middle-aged man behind the counter.

"Gentlemen," he says as he stands and walks around from behind the counter. Sam glances around them as he pulls out his badge. The room is mostly empty, save for a couple cops mingling around.

The man nods at the badges. "Agents," he says. "I'm Eric Dwallas, the sheriff here. I assume you're here about the incidents."

"Yes, sir," Dean says. "We were wondering if you had any idea why these people would do the things they did?"

"I don't know what's happening," Dwallas admits quietly, rubbing his mouth. He looks like he wants a drink. "These people...they were _good people._ Sure, I mean, everyone's got their faults. People get stressed, they make mistakes. But...I knew them." He looks up at Sam and Dean, his eyes pleading. "They would have _never_ done anything like this if they were in their right minds. _Never."_

Dean clears his through and sticks a finger in his collar. "What about Mr. Atkins?" Dean asks, and Sam manages to hold back a wince. Dean continues. "We read his file, and, ah...well, you're the sheriff, you already know what's in his file." Sam watches as the middle-aged man tenses.

"What we're trying to ask," Sam says. "Is if it's possible he had fallen off the wagon? Then, once he got sober, realized what he'd done, perhaps..."

Sam had to give the guy credit. Despite the fire in his eyes, he was calm when he spoke. Nothing like the spitting kind of rages Sam and Dean usually ran across. "Now listen," Dwallas tells them. "I've known Dave since middle school, and he's always had a problem with his temper. Yeah, he was a drunk. A mean one, too. It's why his wife left." He paused and took several deeps breaths. "Dave's been sober now for almost ten whole years, ever since his little girl got pregnant. And even if he did fall off the wagon, he'd never... _never_ hurt Emma and Jake. Never. He _loves_ them." He blinks. "Loved...them." The sheriff looks away. Sam clears his throat.

"Did Dr. Wendy Dagger have any...personal issues, that you are aware of?," Sam asks softly. "Any problems with controlled substances?"

Dwallas shakes his head. "No. Nothing. And neither did Zack."

"We were told about a police call," Castiel says. "Zachary Koffee called the police after he killed his family?"

Dwallas nods and waves them over to his computer "We, uh, have a recording of it. All 911 calls are recorded, of course, you know that already. Let me just..." Sam, Dean, and Castiel follow the troubled man behind the counter and over to his computer. Pictures of the crime scene were on the screen. Dean and Sam both looked away as the sheriff minimized them all and brought up the recording. With a heavy sigh, Dwallas hit play.

_"9-1-1. What is your--"_

_"Oh, God,"_ comes Zack's voice. The next few seconds are nothing but strangled sobs and the voice of the dispatcher trying to calm him down.

_"Oh, God, oh, no, oh, God!"_

_"Sir, please, calm down--!"_

_"I killed them!"_ Zack's voice screams.  _"I killed them, oh, God, I killed them! Mom! Mom!"_

_"Killed who, sir?"_ the dispatcher asks.  _"Sir?"_ Zack's wailing is the only thing that can be heard until the line goes dead. The recording stops.

Sam glances at his brother and Castiel, both wearing grim expressions.

"I don't know about you three," Dwallas says, and Sam can hear the way his voice is wavering. "But that doesn't sound like the voice of someone who's proud of what they did."

They stay for a while longer, get the address of all the victims, the files, the crime scene photos, and copies of the witness statements. Sam already feels emotionally drained on this one, and it hasn't even been a whole day.

"Man," Dean says as they walk out of the building. "That was rough."

"These killings are terribly brutal," Castiel says. "I doubt very seriously that this is a spirit or a sickness. If it is a witch, it's a very powerful one."

"We should check the homes," Sam says. "If it's a witch or a demon, there's bound to be either hex bags or sulfur. Either way, we'll find out what we're up against."

Dean nods. "Split up?" he suggest. "Three houses. Three of us."

Castiel nods. "I'll take the Daggers," he says, and he's off.

Dean blinks and shakes his head. "I'll drop you off at the Atkins' place. It's closet from here," he tells Sam. Sam nods.

"You'll take the Koffee's?"

"Yeah. I'll tell Cas we're meeting back up where you're at."

Sam nods again as they both climb into the impala. The engine roars to life and Dean drives away. The cap of the pen that Sam is chewing on is nearly destroyed by the time they reach the single story house. It's still marked off with police tape. Sam climbs out of the impala with a wary look.

"Call me if you find anything," Sam says as he closes the door. Dean nods.

"You too."

"Yeah."

Sam watches as Dean pulls away from the curb. The slight breeze is cool on the back of his neck. The air smells humid despite the lack of heat, and Sam can feel the anxiety beginning to coil in his gut as he walks up the walkway to the front door. It's sealed with tape. Sam easily breaks it with a pen before opening the door and walking in. He is immediately hit with a smell of sulfur so strong he almost gags. He pulls out his phone and dials Dean's number as he tries to breathe.

_"Sammy?"_ comes Deans worried voice. Probably wondering why Sam is calling him so soon.

"It's definitely demons," Sam coughs. "The sulfur's so strong here I'm practically choking on it."

_"Crap,"_ Dean hisses.  _"Well, I'm not at the Koffee's just yet. I'll do a once over there, then come pick you up."_

"Yeah, no problem," Sam says as he walks further into the room. There's sulfur on the window sill in the living room. Sam carefully avoids stepping on the large copper colored spots on the carpet. "Call me when you're on your way."

_"Will do,"_ Dean says. Sam hangs up, moving his full attention onto his surroundings. The blood splatter is consistent with gunshots. How David Atkins got a gun, the sheriff isn't sure. Even when he was drunk he was against there being any firearms in his house, even more-so when he was sober and Jake had been born. The gun wasn't registered to anyone.

"Demons must have brought it with them," Sam thinks. "Maybe from one of the other houses?" He checks the bedrooms. The daughter's room and the grandson's are both sulfur free. Mr. Atkins' room has sulfur dusted on the window sill.

"I possess him," Sam thinks out loud. "Easy target, perhaps?" He checks his notes. "'Master bedroom window was found open when police arrived'. Yeah. Easy target." Sam sighs. "Possess the grandfather, force him to watch as I kill his family, vacate the body, and he's so torn up with grief that he kills himself." He looks back down at his notes. "Neighbors called police. Heard two gunshots, a man screaming, and then a third gunshot." Sam shakes his head and rubs the side of his face. "Would explain the teenager's call to the police." Sam rubs his face again with both hands, notepad pressed inside his elbow.

He walks through the rest of the house, wanting the make sure he gets everything, when his phone rings. It's Dean.

"Find anything?" Sam asks when he answers.

 _"Sulfur. A lot of it,"_ Dean says.

Sam sighs. "Yeah. I figured. What about Cas?" Sam can hear the angel's gruff voice in the background.

_"He found traces of sulfur,"_ Dean answers.  _"Not much. It was almost a two weeks ago."_

Sam nods, though he knows Dean can't see it. "You two on your way over here?"

_"Yeah, we'll be there in a couple minutes,"_ Dean says, and Sam can hear the doors of the impala close with a slam.

"Right. See you in a bit." Sam says. His phone beeps, signaling that Dean has hung up. Putting his phone in his pocket, Sam looks at the living room one last time. For a moment, he imagines he can hear them. A daughter begging her father for her and her son's life. A grandfather screaming in grief and anguish at the sight of what he had done. A little boy crying.

Sam shakes his head. The noise disappears, replaced with and eerie silence. Sam turns away from the living room and walks out the door, closing it on his way out. He takes several deep breaths. The air smells sweeter now, after practically inhaling the sulfur inside. Sam can feel a headache coming along and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He walks to the edge of the street when he hears the distance sound of the impala's engine. He chuckles, despite the situation, when he sees that Castiel is sitting in the backseat. Sam crosses the street once Dean stops and climbs into the passenger seat.

"So," Dean says as Sam closes the door. "Demons."

"Yeah," Sam says. "And we have no idea where they're gonna hit next, or if they even know we're here."

Dean pulls into the road and doesn't look at his brother when he says "I thought your buddy Lucifer promised the demons would stop?"

Sam clenches and unclenches his teeth. "He said he'd tell the demons to back off _us,_ Dean. Not to stop completely," he defends.

Dean humms but doesn't say anything else. Sam counts backwards from twenty in his head.

"I could search the town," Castiel suggest from the back. Sam turns to look at him while Dean glances at him through the rearview mirror.

"What do you mean?" Dean asks.

"I could search the town," Castiel repeats. "Find out where the demons are hiding, if they've taken new hosts."

"By yourself?" Sam asks.

"It would be quicker, yes."

Dean bites his lip. Sam looks away.

Castiel huffs. "We have a very limited amount of time," he reminds. "I might not be able to smite demons any longer, but I can still fight them."

"Yeah, yeah, we know, Cas," Dean says. Sam watches as his brother rubs his face with his hand. "Yeah, okay. But!" he adds quickly before Castiel can vanish. "You call us the second you find them, right?"

"Of course," Castiel says, and he disappears in a flutter of wings. Dean sighs.

"He'll be alright," Sam says. "He's tough. And he's a soldier."

"Yeah, I know he is," Dean says. "So, what next? Wait until Cas calls?"

"Guess so," Sam replies. "We should head back to the motel and get ready. I can fight in a suit if I have to, I just don't want to."

"I hear that," Dean agrees. Once they reach the motel, Sam and Dean change out of their suits and into more comfortable clothes. Dean is cleaning the demon knife when Sam walks out of the bathroom.

"Heard from Cas yet?" he asks, although he's pretty sure he knows the answer.

"No," Dean says. "It's been over two hours. How long does it take an angel to search a town?"

"Easy," Sam says as he moves over to the small kitchen table where his gun rests. "For all we know, it could be one demon doing all this. That seems like easy pickings for someone like Cas. Maybe he just decided it'd be easier if he just took it out on his own."

"Maybe. But he promised us he'd call once he found it."

"Then maybe he just hasn't found it yet."

Dean lets the knife clatter on the table. "I've got a bad feeling about all this, Sammy."

Sam sighs. "I know, Dean. Me too." He can feel it at the bottom of his gut, that tight, cold clenching anxiety from earlier that hadn't disappeared. When Dean's phone rings, they both jump.

Dean answers immediately. "Cas?" Sam begins to gather their things--guns, knives, rock salt, and holy water--while he listens to Dean's conversation. "You're where? Cross--Crossroads Park. Oh, gee, that's hilarious." Sam throws the bag over his shoulder as Dean tell him they're on their way.

"Crossroads Park?" Sam asks.

"Other side of town, across the water. Apparently there's a baseball game going on," Dean says as they make their way out the hotel.

"Scouting for a new target?"

"That's what Cas thinks, yeah." They smile tightly at the receptionist as they walk outside and to the car. "He said to meet us there. Got everything?"

Sam pats the bag slung over his shoulder right before he slides into the passenger seat. "Yeah."

Dean climbs in a starts the car. Sam takes out a flask of holy water and slips it into the pocket of his jacket. Dean has the knife. He starts the engine and they drive off.

The ride is silent and tense. Dean is the first one who speaks.

"This could be a trap."

"They'd have to know we were here for that."

"Maybe they do."

"Maybe," Sam agrees. "But can we take the chance that it might not be? If the demon is looking for a new target, that could mean another dead family by tomorrow."

Dean nods. "I still don't like it."

"I know," Sam says. "Neither do I."

The parking lot is packed when they get there, the game still going. Sam and Dean make sure they've got all their weapons on them--one gun and a flask of holy water for each of them, Dean with the demon knife--before Sam calls Castiel.

When he answers, he's hushed, quiet. _"Where are you?"_

"The parking lot," Sam answers. "Where are you?"

_"The large playing field near the entrance. There's a man in the bleachers with red hair wearing a blue shirt. He's possessed."_

"Any other demons?"

_"I'm not sure,"_ Castiel admits, and Sam can barely hear him over the cheering of the crowd.  _"He's the only one I see. Wait. I think--"_

"Cas?" Sam says. Dean gives him a look and he shrugs. "Cas, you still there?"

_"He's headed your way."_

"Did he spot you?"

_"I don't think so, but be ready."_

Sam hangs up and nods at his brother. "Demon headed this way. Red hair, blue shirt." Dean unsheathes the knife and faces the field. It takes almost a minute until they can see the described man walking towards them. Neither of them can see Castiel.

"Crap," Dean mumbles. The demon continues to walk towards them. Quietly, Sam and Dean weaving between the parked cars until the demon is close. Dean nods at Sam, and the two of them rush at the demon, pinning it against a nearby vehicle.

"Oh!" the demon laughs, despite the fact that Dean has the knife pressed against it's neck. "Hey there, fellas! Totally wasn't expecting you or anything."

Sam lets out a shot when he feels himself being lifted off the ground. He lands--hard--on his back, the wind rushing out of his lungs in a flash. Two more demons smirk down at him.

"Sam!" Dean shouts. He can hear his brother grunt as he's sent flying into another parked car. Sam winces at the sound of the car alarm.

"Okay," the red-headed demon says as Sam gasps for breath. "Maybe I was lying. But, to be fair, your angel pal isn't exactly subtle. What with the staring and everything." The demon shivers. "Weird."

The two demons standing over Sam pull him to his feet. Distantly he can hear Dean fighting off another demon or two. His lungs still won't cooperate. The red-head, whom Sam assumes is the leader, laughs.

"Oh, man, is it my lucky day or what?"

The last thing Sam hears is Dean shouting his name before he feels a searing pain in his skull. After that, everything goes black.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

When Sam wakes up, he is cold and his head is pounding. He manages to hold back a groan of pain, even though it feels like the room is spinning even with his eyes closed. Distantly he can hear muttering, making out a curse or two. _Dean,_ his mind supplies. _They’ve got Dean._

"Sammy?" Dean asks, voice quiet and slow, almost slurred. "You with me, brother?"

"Nyuh," Sam manages, eyes still closed. "What…?"

"Demons," Dean hisses after Sam trails off, already anticipating the question. "Got the jump on us. Should’ve known it was gonna be a trap, God _damn_ it.”

"Cas?"

" I don't know, Sam. Oz, maybe?" Dean grunts, and Sam can hear the clanging of metal against metal. "Or dead. I don’t know." Sam’s gut runs cold at the thought, he's not sure if the nausea is from that or the concussion, and he hopes that the demons were stupid enough to leave Castiel alive. He knows that Dean is thinking the same thing.

Once Sam’s head stops spinning quite so much, he slowly opens his eyes. In the darkness, Sam can see Dean bound with chains to a radiator across the room. Sam takes a sharp breath at the sights of Dean’s injuries. _You promised,_ Sam thinks (prays?). _You promised they wouldn’t hurt Dean. You promised and you said you’d never lie to me. You promised._

"Jesus Christ, Dean," Sam hisses, though his slurring does not make him sound half as pissed as he's feeling, that familiar bubbling rage beginning to build in his chest at the sight of Dean beaten and bloody. "What the hell did they do to you?"

When Dean grins it's grotesque. One eye is red and bleeding, the other is swollen shut with the surrounding skin nearly black it's so purple, his nose is terribly crooked and the way Dean is breathing through his mouth suggests that he can't even breathe through it. There is blood on his lips and his teeth and it is streaming down his face in little stripes. Sam can hear the slight wheeze when Dean says “What? You didn’t think I’d really go quietly, did ya?” that suggests a broken rib or three.

Sam pulls at his own chains, grunting when they hold strong.

"Easy," Dean warns as Sam’s vision begins to spin at the slightest effort. "They got you pretty good back there, and you were out for a while." Despite the concussion, Sam can hear the worry in Dean’s tone. _I didn’t know if you were gonna wake up at all,_ it says.

"And all those blows to your head didn’t affect you at all, right?"

Dean grins at him again. “I’m better off than you are.”

"Your face says otherwise."

"Did you just call me ugly, you little—"

They both freeze at the sound of shrieking. Doors slam open some distance away, and Sam can hear the demons standing guard beg for—mercy? forgiveness? Sam cannot tell. All he can tell is that it is fear in their voices.

He and Dean glance at each other nervously, still facing the door.

“You don’t think…” Dean starts. “Cas…?”

The air around them grows colder and colder as the screaming gets closer to the room their being held in. Sam’s instincts say vengeful spirit, but he has never felt a room get this cold by a spirit, and he is certain a simple ghost could not make a demon scream like that.

"Ooh," Sam moans. He can feel his body shaking, though he is not sure what from. "Ooohh, God, Dean."

"Sammy?" There is that worried tone again. "Sam, what—"

"It’s Lucifer," he wheezes, lungs burning from the cold, frozen metal burning his skin. "Oh, God, Dean, he’s here. He’s here and he’s coming for us, _Dean—”_ It is fear, he realizes suddenly. It is a fear so strong and so cold he is certain he will never feel anything else as long as he lives.

However long that might be.

He can't tear his eyes away from the door. The screaming has stopped now, and Sam can hear slow, patient footsteps making their way towards the room. He can see Dean shaking out of the corner of his eye.

"It’s okay, Sammy," Dean whispers, and his voice is shaking, too. "It’s gonna be okay."

The door opens and Lucifer, covered in blood, steps through.

All the breath leaves Sam's body. The fear is crippling, paralyzing, and he is shaking so hard that the chains around his wrists are clinking loudly.

Sam sees movement behind Lucifer. He doesn't recognize him at first, but when Castiel steps past Lucifer and into the room, he looks just as bad as Sam feels. He's trembling too, that much Sam can tell, and he is leaning away from Lucifer as if afraid of being struck, hunched over, curled in on himself.

Lucifer is looking at Sam.

The cold air surrounding them is silent, save for the clinking of rattling chains, but Sam swears he can hear the pulsating power that is the archangel standing in front of him. A dull, slow throb that he can feel in his head, in his throat, behind his ribs.

Lucifer takes a step forward.

That seems enough to snap Dean out of whatever trance he was in, because he starts talking. No, he starts _snarling._

"You get the fuck away from my little brother, or so help me God, I won't need your brother's help to kill you! I swear, I swear, I _fucking_ swear to _God, get away from him--"_

Lucifer ignores Dean in favor of Sam, even when Dean is swearing and shouting, then begging when Lucifer kneels in front of Sam to _please, don't, don't hurt him, please, oh God, please, don't take him away._

His fingers are cold--but not a biting cold. It reminds Sam of hot summer days at Bobby's with a wet washcloth on his face, cold but welcomed--when Lucifer softly touches Sam's head. The dizziness and the pain melts away almost instantly as Sam takes in a deep breath. Everything is clearer. Dean has stopped yelling and is just staring intently at the two of them. Castiel is slowly making his way towards Dean, his back against the wall and never once taking his eyes off Lucifer's back.

Sam focuses his eyes back on Lucifer's face. The devil's eyes are a cold blue, and he swears he can almost see the grace spinning behind them.

"You promised you'd never hurt me," Sam says. Lucifer nods.

"I did."

"Those demons--what they did to Dean--you promised they wouldn't--"

"They were not under my orders," Lucifer says. His hand is touching Sam's cheek, almost soothing. "And they were...disposed of."

That gets a harsh shiver out of Sam. Strong enough to rattle the chains still around his wrists. Lucifer's eyes sharpen and Sam leans to his side. He watches as Lucifer grabs the chains and pulls them apart like paper. They clatter loudly as they slip off his arms, and once again Lucifer's cold touch returns to his skin, smoothing away the bruises like they were simply smudges of dirt.

"You prayed to me," Lucifer says, and Sam can see Dean flinch in the corner of his eye.

"I did?"

"Yes. Just now."

"Oh," Sam says. Because what else can he say? 'Oops, sorry, didn't mean to, it'll never happen again'?

Dean shifts again and Sam's focus switches. He's up and instantly by his brother's side.

"Dean," he says when Dean tries to maneuver himself between Sam and Lucifer's approaching form. "Dean, it's okay."

"Like hell it is," Dean growls, and his one good eye never leaves Lucifer's form. "Sam, get behind me."

"So you can what?" Sam hisses. "Bite at his ankles?" Sam glares at his brother until Dean finally meets his gaze. "Let him heal you."

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"He's Lucifer, Sam!" Dean shouts. "Don't tell me you trust him! He's out to end the world, anything he says to you is a lie!"

"Not true," Lucifer argues. "I have never and would never lie to Sam." He tilts his head. "You, however..."

Sam imagines that, if Dean's face wasn't already covered in blood, it would be red out of fury.

"Shut up, you son of a bitch."

"Dean," comes Castiel's voice. He's by their side now, though his eyes still have not moved from Lucifer. "Let him heal you."

Dean shakes his head. "No, Cas. Don't tell me you're falling for this, too."

"He saved you both," Castiel argues. "He didn't kill me when he found me."

"He needed you to find us," Dean argues back.

"No, I didn't," Lucifer interjects. "By the time I found Castiel I had already known your whereabouts." Lucifer steps closer until he's by Sam, then kneels beside him. "I will explain in full detail later." He gives Dean an annoyed look. "When both of you can understand me clearly." He and Dean stare each other down until Sam clears his throat.

"Dean--"

"I said no, Sam."

Sam gives Castiel a pleading look. Castiel just lifts up a shoulder in what Sam assumes to be a shrug before leaning down and breaking Dean's chains. Dean, thankfully, doesn't attempt to lung at Lucifer.

"We'll have to take you to the hospital instead," Sam says as he slings one of Dean's arms over his shoulder and helps his brother to his feet. Dean's left leg hangs at and awkward angle and Sam knows it must be broken. He bites his lip. That will take at least a month to heal on its own. Lucifer and Castiel stand with them. Dean's glare doesn't waver, and Sam shakes his head but doesn't try to argue with him any longer. "Where are we?" he asks instead.

"Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses," Lucifer answers with a quirk to his lips. "Not far from where I found Castiel."

"It's a short ways away from the park," Castiel specifies as he moves to Dean's other side and slings an arm over his shoulder. "I'll take us to the nearest hospital," he adds, mostly directed at Sam.

"Don't try to shake me, Castiel," Lucifer warns, placing a cold hand on Sam's shoulder. "You won't be successful."

Sam watches the muscles in Castiel's jaw twitch before he nods. Sam feels like he's floating for a moment and his stomach lurches unpleasantly when they land. Dean grunts and vomits onto the concrete sidewalk outside the hospital.

"Shit," Sam hisses. "Dean, seriously--"

"If that bastard touches me, I swear to God," Dean coughs out. He spits onto the ground. "Just help me into the damn hospital." The four of them stumble their way into the hospital. The nurses behind the desk immediately rush to Dean's side.

"He was attacked," Sam explains as the nurses push Dean down into a wheelchair. Sam follows them as they push him away.

"Sir," one of the nurses say, "I'm going to have to ask you to wait here. He might need surgery."

"Damn it," Sam hisses. "Right, yeah, sorry." Sam watches as Dean disappears down the hall and behind large swinging doors. He runs a hand through his hair as he sighs. "Damn it," he repeats. He turns and looks back at the two angels, only a handful of step behind him. Castiel is looking anxiously between Sam and Lucifer, while the archangel looks steadily at Sam. Sam can feel goose bumps crawl across his skin, making him shiver. The sterilized smell of the hospital does nothing to sooth the anxiety still coiled in his gut. Slowly, he makes his way back over to the angels.

"They might have to do surgery," Sam tells them. "They're probably worried of internal bleeding or something. Or maybe his leg is shattered to hell, I don't know." Sam rubs his mouth.

"I could just heal him," Lucifer says. "I don't need his consent to do that." He doesn't even finish his sentence before Sam is shaking his head.

"No. No, if I let you do that then he'll never trust me again."

"Dean will be fine," Castiel says, his eyes still flicking between him and the devil. Sam swallows thickly. The three of them are still standing in the middle of the room. Slowly, Sam moves towards the chairs and sits down. The angels follow him and place themselves on either side, Castiel on his right, Lucifer on his left.

"What's your game?" Sam says, quietly so none of the other people around them can hear. Lucifer looks at Sam.

"What do you mean?"

"You're here," he says. "Aren't you gonna...I don't know. Take me away? Try to convince me to be your vessel?"

"We had a deal, didn't we?" Lucifer says. "I keep my word, Sam. I told you this."

Sam gives Lucifer a confused look. "So...you're just gonna...let me go?"

"Oh, no," Lucifer chuckles. "No, no. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

"You mean you're staying?" Castiel says. Lucifer nods.

"Yes."

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He can feel himself shaking and he can't stop.

"Sam?" Castiel's voice sounds far away.

"I'm okay," Sam manages to strangle out. "I'm okay."

A nurse comes over and asks Sam a few questions about insurance and what happened to Dean. He answered them as calmly as he could, all too aware of the cold presence by his side. She leaves him with paper work and he fills it out silently.

"Dean will be okay," Castiel says softly. Sam nearly chokes on the laugh that is startled out of him.

"I know, Cas," Sam says. "He's too stubborn to die. Especially when he knows that the devil is waiting out here with me." Castiel glances over Sam's shoulder at Lucifer. "Which reminds me," Sam says and turns to the archangel. Lucifer meets Sam's eyes immediately. Sam swallows thickly. "How...um, how was the coffee?"

Lucifer's lips twitch. "It was...interesting."

Sam makes a face. "Interesting? What does that mean?"

"It means it was interesting."

Sam frowns. "Well...will you at least tell me the name of the coffee you tried?"

Lucifer's lips twitch again before he says "Angel's kiss. That's what the woman called it. An...angel's kiss mocha."

Sam blinks.

Lucifer continues. "I found it to be rather pleasant, actually."

Sam can feel his own lips begin to twitch until what Lucifer said really sits in. He blinks again. _Did I just save the world with coffee?_

"Don't think this changes anything, Sam," Lucifer says. "You still have a very long way to go."

Sam nods, still slightly stunned. Eventually, Sam manages to shake off most of it and instead focuses on their current predicament.

"How are we going to explain all of the bodies in the church?" Sam whispers.

"Taken care of," Lucifer says before Castiel can answer.

Sam turns and looks at him. "What do you mean?"

"The bodies have been disposed of. Nothing was left behind to link you there."

Sam nods slowly. "Oh...thanks."

Lucifer nods back but remains silent.

Eventually, the police show up. Sam knew they would. He recognizes the sheriff immediately and can't help but sigh. How long has it been since they saw him? The sun was just beginning to set, so it couldn't have been that long. Pushing himself to his feet, he quickly prepares a lie in his head to explain what happened.

By the time he's finished explaining, a nurse comes out to tell him that Dean didn't need surgery after all, but that the doctors want to keep him for a few nights for observation.

Sam was afraid of this. He thanks the nurse anyway, and then turns to tell the sheriff that he's welcome to come by again tomorrow.

The sheriff shakes his hand. He still looks just as tired as he had that morning. "Just tell your partner to get some rest."

Sam gives him a thankful smile. "I will, sir. Thank you."

Castiel and Lucifer are at his side when the nurse returns to lead them to Dean's room. The three of them walk in silence, Sam sending nervous glances towards Lucifer every now and then. Once they reach the room, the nurse leaves. Steeling himself, Sam opens the door and walks in.

Dean one visible eye is glassy with drugs, though he's apparently still of sound enough mind to glare venomously in Lucifer's direction.

"Sammy," Dean slurs. "Why's he still here?"

"He's not leaving Dean," Sam says after he's settled himself in the uncomfortable chair by Dean's side. "If he does, he's not letting me stay here."

Dean closes his eyes tightly. Sam pretends not to see him tremble. "What do we do?" Dean asks quietly. "We've literally got the devil looming over us. What about Cas?"

"I'm still here," Castiel says and moves to Sam's side. "As long as Lucifer remains here, so will I."

"But what about God?" Dean asks. Sam looks up at Castiel, who glances uneasily at Lucifer.

"We'll figure something out," Castiel replies. "I will find him."

"Finding our Father?" Lucifer says. He chuckles. "It's a pointless endeavor, Castiel." Sam swears he can hear the patronizing tone that must come with being an older sibling. "And a little naive, even for you."

Castiel's shoulders straighten and Sam can't help but imagine a bird angrily ruffling it's feathers. "I have an amulet," he says. "It is said that it burns hot in God's presence."

"Ridiculous," Lucifer says immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've heard of no such amulet. Show it to me."

Castiel hesitates, but eventually pulls Dean's amulet out of his coat pocket and holds it out for Lucifer to take. The devil uncrosses his arms and takes it, turning it over several times in his hands.

After a moment, he shakes his head. "I can see nor feel anything special about this. It's just a necklace."

"Amulet," Dean corrects from his bed.

Lucifer looks up, quirks an eyebrow, and says "It's a necklace."

Castiel snatches the amulet back, gripping it tightly. "I don't believe you."

"Whether or not you believe me doesn't change the fact that it's true. You were lied to, Castiel. There's no reason to be ashamed. It happens."

"But you don't lie," Sam says suddenly. Lucifer, Castiel, and Dean all turn to look at him.

Lucifer nods. "I do not."

"Then you mean it? When you say it's just an amulet. You're not lying."

"I can't sense anything about the necklace that would suggest it has the power to locate our Father. I'm sorry." He turns to Castiel. "Truly."

Sam watches as Castiel looks down at his hand for a moment, then looks away from them all, and Sam can see him clenching his teeth--no doubt a habit he also picked up from Dean and himself.

"Is there anyway to find God?" Dean asks gruffly. "Some sort of summoning spell? Anything?"

"Do you really think, if there was a way you could summon God, someone wouldn't have tried that by now?" Lucifer says. "There's no spell, no ritual, nothing that I know of that could force God into one location. Besides, even if I did know how to find Him, why would I tell _you?_ You want him to kill me, after all."

Dean and Castiel both look away. Sam gulps.

"Well, there has to be some way to find Him," Dean says eventually. "It's not like we can tell who's God and who's some random person on the side of the road."

Lucifer raises his eyebrow again. This time it looks more natural, and less like he had just copied the look from someone else. "Well, I suppose _you_ can't."

Sam shares a look with his brother just as Castiel asks "What do you mean?"

"There are only four angels who have seen God's face," Lucifer says. "Michael is one, Raphael is another. Then there was Gabriel, and--"

"You," Sam finishes. "You know what God looks like. You've seen His face." Lucifer smirks.

"Yes."

"So if we walked by God on the street," Dean says. "You'd be able to recognize him?"

"I imagine his vessel doesn't look very much like his true form, but, yes, I'd be able to recognize him," Lucifer answers. "Call it instinct. Seeing the face of God is not something one would forget so easily."

"God has a vessel?" Sam asks.

"In a sense," Lucifer answers. "He can take any form or shape He wishes."

"Like a shape shifter," Dean says.

Lucifer frowns down at Dean. "Very crude. But yes."

Dean narrows his good eye. "Crude? What, I thought God made all living creatures?"

"The creatures you hunt are abominations not made of God," Lucifer says quickly. Sam tenses and the lights above them flicker.

Dean throat clicks as he swallows. "What? Like demons?"

Lucifer looks down coldly at him, and Sam gets the sudden urge to shield his brother from that stare.

"Yes," Lucifer eventually answers. "Like demons."

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

After four days in the hospital, Dean eventually swallows his pride and allows Lucifer to heal him.

"But just my leg!" Dean specifies. "I can't afford to be laid up for a month. The rest I can deal with just fine."

Sam swears that Lucifer barely manages to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

During those four days though, Sam introduces Lucifer to more man-made wonders--mostly different types of food. The Belgian waffle is a big hit, and despite trying different types of coffee, Lucifer still insists that the angel kiss mocha is his favorite.

Castiel joins them on these endeavors, mostly at Dean's insistence.

"I don't want that son of a bitch left alone with my brother."

"Dean, I doubt Lucifer will harm Sam--"

"I don't care! I'll be fine here. Just--Cas, please, I--"

"...okay, Dean."

Castiel favors pancakes more than waffles, hot chocolate over coffee. Both angels prefer pineapple on their pizza, which makes Sam wrinkle his nose and Dean bites his lip so hard to keep himself from laughing he almost starts bleeding.

Sam has to hand it to Dean, he gave it a good shot and he lasted longer than Sam thought he would. Regardless, four days was much too long for Dean to sit around doing nothing.

The nurses don't stop them from leaving when Dean signs out, happy to hobble on crutches until their outside and out of view, and Castiel takes them to where the Impala is still parked. The park is mostly empty, now.

The ride back to the Shilo Inn he and Dean are staying at is...uncomfortable, for lack of a better word. Castiel and Lucifer are sitting in the back seat, Lucifer behind Sam and Castiel behind Dean. Dean spends more time glancing at the rearview mirror than he does looking at the road, but they manage to get to the hotel without incident. It is no less awkward once they reach the hotel room. Dean rolls carefully onto his bed, still wary of his other unhealed injuries, and grabs the TV remote.

"What?" Dean asks when Sam gives him a look. "You have any better ideas? Feel free to have long and insightful conversations with Satan. I'll be here watching TV."

Sam huffs and sits down on the edge of his own bed. Castiel and Lucifer are both looking at the TV as Dean flips through channels. Dean reaches Animal Planet, pauses, then continues. The channel flips back.

Sam glances at Dean, who frowns, and goes to the next lower channel. The TV flips back. Dean huffs loudly.

"Seriously?" he asks, directed at the two angels still standing off to the side. "Which one of you is doing that?"

"I want to see what happens next," Lucifer replies without looking away. Castiel says nothing, just continues to watch as a black man in uniform hops a fence to collect a skinny, shivering puppy.

Dean sighs. "Man. I hate Animal Cops. It's like the saddest show on television."

The two angles ignore him. Sam takes this time to really look at Lucifer. He'd never seen him in person before. And the past few days had been spent in so much anxiety that Sam had never really had the time to look.

There are blisters beginning to form on the side of his face and around his hand, his skin is ashen, and there are dark circles under his eyes. In his dreams, he had looked healthy. Now he just looks sick.

They watch the program until the very end. The puppy is warm, happy, and healthy in it's new home, though the same couldn't be said for the starving dog that was found too late. Sam can almost feel what little progress he might have made slowly slipping away.

"You know," Dean says. "I used to want to be an animal cop."

Sam frowns. "I thought you hated dogs?"

"Well, yeah, _now,"_ Dean says. "Not when I was a kid. Remember? You had to have been, what? Four? Five?" Sam shrugs. Dean continues. "These kids had this old cat cornered and they were throwing rocks at it. You were screaming your head off," Dean says, pointing at Sam. "I chased them off. You went and grabbed the cat and it scratched the holy hell out of you, but you wouldn't let it go for love or money until we found that vet's office."

"I don't remember that," Sam says softly. Dean shrugs.

"It was a long time ago."

"And that made you want to be an animal cop?" Sam asks. Dean shrugs again, but winces this time. Sam looks down at his hands. The hair on his arms stand up when he feels eyes on him. He looks up and is met with Lucifer's icy stare. He doesn't say anything, just turns back towards the television.

They decide to stay a couple more days in Casper. Afterwards, Dean thinks South Dakota. Lucifer quickly disagrees.

Dean frowns. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean that's not where we're going," Lucifer says, carefully flipping through channels. He stops on the history channel where they are showing a documentary about Houdini.

"Where should we go instead?" Castiel prompts. Sam can easily see the eagerness in his body language. He's hoping Lucifer will tell them where God is.

Lucifer looks away from the television and meets Castiel's gaze. They stare at each other for a moment before Castiel slowly averts his eyes.

"Why should I help you look for God?" Lucifer asks, a repeat of the conversation they had had almost five days ago. "You want him to kill me."

"You want to destroy the world," Dean says. Lucifer looks at Dean from the corner of his eyes.

"No," he says. "Just you."

Sam can see the way Dean tenses and swallows. Sam's the one who speaks up first.

"But why, though?" he asks. "You told me why, but I still don't understand."

"Is it not obvious?" Lucifer says, and Sam can't stop the shiver that runs through him. "What you've done to this planet--my father's final, perfect creation--would be reason enough. The irreversible damage, the way you treat it's inhabitants, even the way you treat each other."

"Humans are doing the best they can to fix all of that!" Sam argues.

"If you weren't here to begin with, it never would have happened," Lucifer says easily. Sam scoffs.

"That isn't fair! You could say that about everything!"

"And what makes you find these creatures so worth saving?" Lucifer says sharply, rising to his feet. Castiel and Dean follow, as if preparing themselves to intervene.

"You focus so intently on all the bad!" Sam says. "And I get it, really. There's so much negativity, so much evil, sometimes I don't think any of it is worth anything! But there _is_ good here! You have to have faith in--"

"You want to argue with _me_ about faith, boy?" Lucifer interrupts. Sam can see the way Dean and Castiel shiver. Sam can feel himself grow cold, but he straightens his shoulders and stares ahead, even as Lucifer gets within inches of him. "All this death and destruction," Lucifer argues, his voice raising in volume. "Murder, rape, genocide. Betrayal and anger! Where is God in all of this? Where does your _faith_ come from?"

"In the hearts of people who fight against it!" Sam can feel his heartbeat pick up. "My uncle Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim," his voice is rising and he can't stop it. "Ellen and Jo and Ash! Castiel! Missouri! My mother!" He can feel his throat closing up and the tears stinging his eyes. "My father! _My brother!"_ he practically spits at him. He gives Lucifer the most defiant look he can muster. "Them! From them! That's where my faith comes from!"

Sam is panting and shaking so hard he barely registers just how cold it is in the room, or the fact that the TV is screeching static at them and all the light bulbs have blown out. Lucifer is glaring up at him, and Sam can feel the power rolling off of him in waves. It makes him want to cower in a corner, but he stands his ground as best as he can.

Lucifer smirks, though it looks angry and forced. "How interesting it is that my true vessel is the one who wants to save humanity."

"Yeah," Sam says. "Better get used to it."

Slowly, the cold disappears as Lucifer backs away. Sam doesn't relax, but he no longer feels like an ant under a microscope. Castiel makes his way to Sam's side while Dean slowly sits himself back down on his bed. Sam's heart is finally slowing down by the time all the warmth returns to the room. He sits down on the edge of his bed and watches as Lucifer walks towards the sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony. He just stares out at the sky.

He stays that way for hours.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Two days later and Sam's ready to leave. He feels that he's made very little progress with Lucifer, especially after their shouting match. Sam tries to explain as best as he can to Sheriff Dwalas that, no, they didn't find out what was wrong but that Sam was certain they wouldn't be having any more incidents like that in the near future. He was understandably skeptical, but thanked him none-the-less.

Dean seems to think he's fit to drive. Sam thinks otherwise, and so does Castiel.

"I'm driving," Sam says, snatching the keys out of Dean's grip. "The swelling in your eye hasn't even gone down yet! You're not fit to drive so stop pouting already."

"I'm not pouting," Dean argues.

"You're totally pouting."

Sam carries most of their stuff to the car. Dean's broken ribs still making it difficult. Once their all packed, they piled into the car, Lucifer sitting behind Sam and Castiel sitting behind Dean

"Where too?" Sam asks as he starts the car. Lucifer raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Sam asks again. "Where are we headed? You said you didn't want to go the South Dakota, but we need to find God. We won't ask him to kill you," Sam says before Lucifer can argue. "But my guess is that God is the only one Michael will listen to?"

Lucifer lifts his chin. "What do you mean?"

"You don't really want to kill your brother, do you?" Sam says. "I can see it."

Lucifer says nothing, and it's just the sound of the Impala's engine for a long before he finally says "South. I'm not sure where exactly, but south of here."

Sam nods at him through the rear view mirror and puts the car into gear.

"South it is."

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

It takes them four hours to reach Colorado. They spend two days in the state before Lucifer leads them elsewhere. Dean introduces both the angels to alcohol on the first day. Castiel drinks Dean under the table. Lucifer nearly gags on the whiskey and it's unpleasant taste. Sam hands him a root beer which he downs almost instantly. Sam himself just sticks to water.

The second night also includes alcohol, but after a handful of shots, Dean becomes, well, Dean.

"So, I know Casanova over here hasn't," Dean says, pointing at Castiel. "But what about you, hm? Ever make the beast with two backs?"

"Dean!" Sam says, scandalized.

"Heels to Jesus? Or whatever the kids call it these days."

"Dean, I swear--"

"Once," Lucifer answers. "A very long time ago."

"Holy crap, no freakin' way," Dean says. Sam blinks as Dean laughs. "Who was it?" Dean asks. "Anybody we know?"

"Yes, actually," Lucifer says. "You met her." Dean smile slides off his face. Sam feels his gut go cold.

"Lilith," Sam says.

Lucifer looks away. "We should leave tomorrow. Further south."

None of them argue.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

It takes them twice as long to reach a place in New Mexico where Lucifer tells them to stop. It's there that Sam notices the increasing of blisters on his hands and face. They're standing on the side of the road, Lucifer standing in the sunlight.

"It's been a very long time since I've felt the sun," Lucifer says quietly. Dean is resting in the back seat and Castiel is waiting for the two of them outside the car. "It's nice to feel it again."

"Were you afraid you never would?" Sam asks.

"No," Lucifer says. "I knew I would." They're quiet, listening to the sounds of mother nature and her inhabitants, with the rushing of a car driving past every now and then.

"We need to go west," Lucifer says suddenly.

"We need to rest here a night," Sam says as they turn back to the car. "Dean's fit to drive, but I want to sleep in a real bed after driving so long." Lucifer nods.

They find a hotel, sleep, and the next morning, as Sam predicted, Dean insists on driving.

"West, right? Hell yes, I'm going to the Grand Canyon!" Sam doesn't argue, just hands over the keys and prepares himself for a six hour car ride.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

The blister's on Lucifer face begin to bleed once they reach the Grand Canyon. Sam attempts to wipe the blood away and nearly vomits when the skin slides off as well.

"Oh my god," Sam says. Lucifer frowns.

"It seems my vessel isn't lasting nearly as long as I had hoped."

Sam frowns. "What do you mean?" He pulls Lucifer to the side where people won't hear them. They're already getting strange looks. Probably wondering if Lucifer has some contagious disease.

"This is not my true vessel, Sam," Lucifer explains. "He wasn't built for my strength. I'm burning through him. It will only be a matter of time before he falls apart completely."

"How long?" Sam asks. Lucifer shakes his head.

"Not very long."

When Dean and Castiel come back, Dean tosses a keychain at him. A license plate that says 'SAM' on it.

"Where to next?" he asks as they head back to the car.

"...North," Lucifer says after a moment. "Yes. North."

Sam gives him a concerned look and opts to sit in the back seat with him instead.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

They spend a couple more days in Arizona to rest up and buy supplies. Lucifer's condition worsens until he can't even go out in public without frightening someone.

They hit traffic on the way to Utah, and Dean drives for eight hours to Salt Lake City. They hole themselves up in a Comfort Inn. Lucifer doesn't say a word.

"Well," Dean says once they've moved all their stuff in. "Where to next?"

Lucifer is silent as he lowers himself into a chair. Sam frowns. Blisters cover his face and his arms, and there's blood seeping from underneath his clothes.

"Lucifer?" Castiel asks, moving to stand beside his fallen brother.

"I--" Lucifer stops and frowns. "I'm not sure."

Dean blinks. The swelling in his eye is gone and most of his bruises have faded to a sickly yellow. "What?"

"He's...nearby. But it's--I'm finding it difficult to concentrate."

"Is it your vessel?" Sam asks.

Lucifer hesitates for a moment, then nods. "I believe so, yes."

Dean and Sam share a look. _Crap,_ Sam thinks. _Crap, we're in trouble_

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Castiel is not quite ready to give up on the amulet. He and Dean leave the motel to search the city while Sam stays behind.

Lucifer is laying on the motel bed, Sam's bed, the one furthest from the door. His vessel has strips of flesh missing and there is old and new blood on his already blood-soaked clothes. Every time he moves Sam can hear a disturbing squelching sound as more flesh is pulled off by the movement. The bed sheets are soaked with blood and the motel room smells strongly of copper.

Lucifer looks and smells like a rotting corpse, but Sam can't bring himself to leave his side.

"What will happen when your vessel can't...I don't know, support you? Anymore?"

The vessel's blue eyes are brightly contrasted by the red blood as Lucifer moves to look at him. "Well, I won't die, if that is what you're asking me."

"I know. I mean, what happens...to you? Where will you go?"

Lucifer stares for a moment. "I'm not sure. Roam the earth until I find a new one, I suppose."

"There are others besides me?"

"No other is my true vessel, no," Lucifer says. "But there are others like Nick, though none nearly as strong. He was the next best option."

Sam blinks slowly. "Nick," he repeats, almost whispers. "That's his name?"

"It was."

Sam jolts at the shock that gives him. It's quiet for a while until Sam manages to ask "Who was he? Nick, I mean. Who...who was he?"

Lucifer silent for a long moment, and Sam wonders if he's ignoring him. But when Lucifer does answer, it's brief. "A widower. And a childless father."

Sam closes his eyes at the pang of grief that hits him. "...is that all?"

"That's all I needed to know." He looks away from Sam and stares at the ceiling. "I found his weakness in his deceased wife and child, and I used it against him." He hums. "I've been told I'm good at doing that."

"That's not funny."

"I was unaware it was supposed to be."

Sam doesn't say anything to that, and they are both silent for a while.

"Is he...is Nick still--?" Sam isn't sure how to ask, or even why he's asking.

"I can feel him," Lucifer says. "It's difficult to explain in a way you can understand, but, yes, he's present."

Sam licks his lips. "What's he doing?"

Lucifer looks back at Sam, and now one of his eyes is beginning to bleed. Sam has to fight the instinct to wipe it away. All he would be doing is peeling off the skin. Lucifer frowns. "Nothing. He's just...there. A presences. Like a very faint warmth in the back of my mind." He shifts, and the squelching noises return, making Sam feel nauseous. "I imagine he's in great agony at this point, with his body in this...depleted state."

_Depleted,_ Sam thinks sarcastically.  _That's one way to put it, yeah._ "What happens if you leave?" he asks. "Can you heal his body?"

"Unfortunately, no," Lucifer says quietly. "If I vacate this vessel...Nick will surely die."

Sam gulps and barely manages to keep his voice steady when he asks "Where will he go?"

Despite the blistering skin and being covered in blood, Lucifer's face seems to soften. "Hell, Sam. He will go to hell."

It is like a scratchy CD the way his answer repeats itself in Sam's head. _Hell, hell, he will go to hell, **you** will go to hell, if you say yes you will **go to hell.**_

"But why?" Sam begs, and he can't seem to stop his voice from wavering this time. _"Why?"_

"Because there's no place for us in Paradise, Sam. We are not welcome."

"But we could be," Sam says desperately. "We _could_ be. We just have to find Him."

Lucifer closes his eyes, looking, for the first time that Sam has seen, tired and weary and beat-down. "I wish I could have as much faith in my Father as you do, Sam."

Sam can't suppress the sudden need to move. He stands and walks hurriedly towards the door. "I'm gonna go--go find Dean. Call Dean. I'll be right back."

Lucifer doesn't say anything or even try to stop him as he leaves, and Sam can't decide if that is better or worse than if he had.

Sam uses all his self control to keep himself from running down the steps and out through the lobby into the dim evening light. Dean picks up on the third ring.

_"Sammy?"_

"Dean, he's getting worse," Sam says immediately. "If he finds another temporary vessel, he's just gonna burn through that one faster. And Nick--that's the vessel he's using now--Nick is dead, Dean. If Lucifer burns through any more vessels that's gonna be more dead people, and--"

_"Whoa, whoa, breathe, Sam!"_ Dean interrupts. Sam takes several deeps breaths and counts backwards from ten before he continues.

"Dean, we need him to find God."

_"Sam--you--Sam! Whatever you're thinking don't do it, okay? We'll find God with or without Lucifer."_ Sam shakes his head.

"Dean, I--"

_"Just--just wait until I get there. Sam? Do you hear me? Hello? Sammy?"_

Sam hangs up the phone. It starts ringing after a few seconds, but Sam ignores it. _What if I say yes?_ Sam thinks. _If I do that, then maybe Lucifer won't need to find God after all. Maybe Michael found a temporary vessel. Maybe it's weak. Maybe he'd win._

Sam closes his eyes and looks up at the sky. _Please._ He thinks. _Just...please._

Feeling calmer than he has since his deal with Lucifer began, he walks back up to their room where Lucifer still waits.

Lucifer glances at him. "They find him?"

"No," Sam says as he closes the door. "But you knew that already."

"Yes," Lucifer admits.

Sam returns to his seat by Lucifer's side. "If you had a stronger vessel," Sam says slowly. "Would you be able to find God?"

Lucifer gives Sam a calculating look. "Most likely. Yes."

Sam nods, mostly to himself.

"Sam--" Lucifer begins.

"Don't," Sam says. "Don't say anything, okay? Just..." Sam laughs. "I thought I'd be scared. But I'm not. I just feel...tired. Really, really tired." Sam closes his eyes. "What's the score?"

"The score?"

"Our deal. The score."

Lucifer seems to think for a moment before saying "Tied."

Sam laughs again. "Okay. Okay..." Sam takes several deep breaths. He swears he can almost hear Dean's voice screaming when he looks Lucifer in the eyes and says "Yes."

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Dean breaks down the door and is met with a blinding white light.

"Sam! No!" he screams. Castiel grips his jacket, shielding him from the burning light, and doesn't move until the light has disappeared.

Dean watches as Lucifer clenches and unclenches Sam's fist. For some reason he looks taller than Dean remembers, despite the fact that Sam has been a giant at six-foot-four since he graduated high school. Castiel is shivering again beside him, though he doubts it's because of the cold. Underneath the biting chill, Dean can feel the pulsating power of the archangel, and here he thinks it's no wonder Lucifer was burning through that other guy so quickly. Lucifer's old vessel is laying motionless on the bed. Dean can't say he's surprised. He doubts anyone could survive injuries like those.

Lucifer turns and looks at Dean and Castiel with Sam's eyes and Dean wants to puke. Never has he seen Sam's eyes so cold, not even when the kid was hopped up on demon blood, or when he was spitting insults at their father like it wasn't hammering daggers into their old man's heart every time. Sam's eyes have always been burning, fiery, never...never so cold.

Dean gulps. "Well?" he asks.

Lucifer quirks an eyebrow, and on Sam's face, it just looks sinister. "Well what?"

"We gonna find God or what?"

Lucifer shakes his head slowly. "It isn't that simple." He glances down at Sam's hands and watches as he wiggles his fingers.

"It's gonna have to be," Dean says harshly eve as he trembles, the adrenaline in his body telling him to run, _run, don't even fight because you'll die, Dean,_ because this is Lucifer wearing his brother's _face_ and that is _so wrong, so very, very wrong._

Lucifer straightens his (Sam's) shoulders and levels him with a sharp look. "You forget," he says. "That I didn't agree to this for you. If you truly want to find God, then we are going to do this _my_ way. Not yours."

Dean gulps. Castiel lays a hand on Dean's shoulder, pushing him back to stand in front of him.

"What do we do, brother?" Castiel asks, and Dean notices that he's not trembling anymore.

Lucifer glances at the body on the bed. "We should dispose of him."

Dean nods. "Yeah, uh. Was hopin' you'd take care of that. Dragging out bloody sheets wrapped around a human shaped lump isn't exactly subtle."

Lucifer gives Dean a look that can only suggest how very not amused he is, but with a wave of his hand, the body is gone. "Salted and burned and buried beside his wife and child. Where he should be."

Dean looks away for a moment. "Alright. Let's pack up." He smirks even though his heart is sill hammering beneath his chest. "We're gonna find God."

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Their hunt for God takes them out of Utah and into Clallam Bay, Washington. Lucifer rides in the back while Castiel sits in the passenger seat. They stop twice during the seventeen hour drive for gas and food.

The check in at the Winter Summer Inn and Dean has barely enough time to dump their stuff when Lucifer is on the move.

"He's here," he says. "I can feel it. Can't you feel it, Castiel?"

He looks unsure in Dean's eyes when he says "I feel...something."

Lucifer nods and breathes deeply. "It's him," he says. "It's our father."

Dean can feel himself begin to shake. With what, his isn't sure. Fear? Excitement? Adrenaline? All three, most likely. Regardless, Dean has a hard time going to speed limit as Lucifer guides him where to go.

Dean parks outside the deli. There's hardly anyone there.

"That's him," Lucifer says quietly. He points to a plain looking older man. Dark skin, white hair, and a thin, white beard.

"That's...that's God?" Dean asks, because he has to. Dean can hear it when Castiel gulps.

"What do we do?" he asks. He turns to Lucifer. "Brother...what do we do?"

Dean turns to look at Lucifer. His eyes are wide and he can see the way his jaw muscles clench and unclench.

"We go talk to him," Dean answers instead. "I mean...it's all we can do at this point, isn't it?" Lucifer nods, and, slowly, the three of them exits the car. They watch as God lights up a cigarette and takes a drag. Once the get within a couple yards, God speaks.

"Was wondering when you boys would find me," he says, puffing out smoke. "Took longer than expected."

"We took a car," Lucifer says, by way of explanation. "It was...slow."

"I imagine it was," God chuckles. He finishes his cigarette in silence, and only when he finishes it does he look at Lucifer. He smiles. "My son," he says. "It's so good to see you."

Dean can see the way Lucifer practically lights up.

"Father," he says, stepping forward. "I...we've come a long way to speak with you."

"I am aware."

"Then you know what we ask," he says. "Please, Father...don't make us fight."

The smile on God's face falls. "Lucifer..."

"I don't want to kill my brother," Lucifer continues. "I don't. Please. You can't want this!"

"Lucifer!" God says harshly. The archangel and Castiel both flinch violently. God stares Lucifer down and says. "No, Lucifer. I will do no such thing."

Lucifer looks down at the concrete ground. "I don't understand," he says, and Dean can hear it, the desperate tone in his voice. A heartbroken son pleading to his father. "Why do you hate me?"

God's face falls, looking all like the remorseful father Dean has a hard time believing He is. "My son," He says, cupping Lucifer's face with His hands. Lucifer's eyes squeeze shut and his hands clench into fists, like it takes all his strength to not reach out and hold on for dear life. "I don't hate you. I could _never_ hate you."

"Then _why?"_ Lucifer begs. And it strikes Dean, then, that that is truly what he's doing: begging. _Lucifer_ is _begging._ "Why won't you allow me to come home? Why won't you tell Michael to stop? Why won't you save us?" Lucifer is shaking in God's grip. "I just want to come home."

"My son," He says. "You can _never_ come home."

Lucifer opens his eyes, and if Dean never has to see that expression on Sam's face ever again, it will be too soon.

"Wh--...what?"

"This," God gestures with one hand to the world around them. "This has to happen."

"You mean I have to die?" Lucifer says, and Dean swears he can see tears glimmering in the devil's eyes. "By my brother's hand? Or he has to die by mine?"

God says nothing as His hands drop from Lucifer's face. "I'm sorry. But it is how it must be." And without so much as a flutter or a shimmer, God is gone.

Lucifer doesn't move at first. Doesn't even blink. Dean glances at Castiel, and he can clearly see the defeated, heartbroken look on his friend's face. Dean can't blame him. He can feel his own stomach sinking with the gravity of it all. God just...left. He is gone. He is not going to help, He is going to let the world burn, and Dean isn't sure if He even wants to save any of them.

People are staring at them now. Three random guys looking defeated as all hell, not moving or speaking. They need to leave.

Dean clears his throat. "Come on," he says, gently nudging Castiel with his elbow. He doesn't even dare to touch Lucifer. "We need to get out of here."

"And go where?" Lucifer asks. His voice is oddly calm, though Dean knows better.

"Back to the motel," Dean says. "We can't stay here. We need to go."

Lucifer remains quiet, but he follows Dean back to the impala and slides into the backseat. Castiel sits beside him and Lucifer closes his eyes for a moment as their shoulders brush. Dean just climbs into the driver's seat and drives, not at all imagining wings wrapping around hunched shoulders.

It is only once they get back to the motel does Dean begin to feel the dread and hopelessness of the entire situation. Lucifer just walks, almost aimlessly, towards the table by the small kitchen. Sam's pack is sitting on the floor by the bed furthest from the door, untouched. He closes the door behind him and turns to Lucifer.

"What happens now?" Dean asks him. His voice is rough and gravely, and he swallows. God has just walked out on them-- _just another dead-beat dad,_ Dean thinks, _nothing new_ \--and now Lucifer, in Sam's body...he could do anything he wants. He could go find Michael and kill him, he could take the apocalypse by storm. The world could end today and Dean wouldn't be able to do much of anything to stop it.

_No, that's not true,_ a little voice in Dean's head tells him.  _You could say yes to Michael. He'd win, you know he would win. And all this will be over._

Lucifer lowers himself to sit at the small table. Tense, intimidating, using Sam's height to his full advantage even though all he's doing is sitting there. Castiel is by Dean's side by the doorway.

Lucifer shakes his head and says nothing. Dean wonders how the devil could manage to look so heart broken, and is he really feeling sympathy? For this guy? Castiel shuffles beside him.

"Brother," he says. "Perhaps we can--"

"No," Lucifer cuts him off, and, God, he certainly _sounds_ like someone who's just been told by their father that he has to fight his brother to the death. "No, Castiel. We can't." He looks up from the table, and if it weren't for the fact that he was wearing his brother, Dean would have almost missed the lost look in the fallen angel's eyes. "You're too weak to do much of anything. And I imagine many of my followers have abandoned me by now." Dean blinks. He hadn't thought of that.

"So...what happens now?" Dean repeats. "What happens...to Sam?"

Lucifer looks at Dean, and there it is! That look again! The same one Dean has been getting ever since Lucifer joined them and refused to leave, but now Dean can actually see it. The bitterness, anger, envy, and yearning all wrapped into an icy stare. Dean can feel the warmth seep out of the atmosphere, and Castiel shivers.

"It isn't fair," Lucifer says, and it sounds petulant, even to Dean. "God made angels to love--it's what we are made out of. And yet..." He smiles, bitter and sharp. "You...and Michael..."

Dean gulps.

Lucifer shakes his head. "You have nothing more in common other than being the elder. Michael is nothing like you. And that...it isn't fair." Lucifer's hands are clenched atop the table. "Why do _you_...why can't _I_...it isn't _fair."_

Everything is tense. Castiel is trembling beside him, the same way he had when Lucifer had charged through that building with a bloody rage none of them had ever seen. Dean can hardly breathe past the icy sting in his throat. Lucifer just stares.

Eventually, the cold gives way to the warmth, Castiel stops shaking, and Dean can breathe again. Lucifer looks down at his hands on the table for a moment before he unclenches them and stands.

"It's time I take my leave," he says.

Dean's heart drops to his stomach and he goes cold again for a completely different reason. "Wait, no, you--you can't!"

Lucifer continues as if he hadn't heard a word Dean said. "There is no reason for me to stay."

"Where will you go?" Castiel asks, apparently ignorant to the fact that Dean's heart is currently trying to make a home in his intestines. "Heaven will not take you."

"Return to hell, then, I suppose," he says, as if Dean's whole world is not currently crashing down around him faster than he can blink.

"You can't!" Dean repeats. "You can't take Sam! Not with you, not to hell! You can't!"

Lucifer stops and gives Dean a soft look. "No," he says. "I suppose not."

There is a bright flash of light that burns Dean's eyes so badly he has to close them. A high pitched ringing in his ears follows and the wind is rushing around him. It's like that night in the church all over again, and Dean is so sure that when he opens his eyes this time, Sam will be gone.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

When Dean opens his eyes, Sam's body is laying in a heap on the floor. Without hesitation, he lunges for him. He barely registers Castiel's presence beside him as he grips Sam's limp body.

"Sam! Sammy!" he shouts. His voice is high-pitched and panicked to his own ears but he doesn't care. Sam doesn't move aside from the light rise and fall of his chest. Dean has a hand gripping Sam's jacket while the other is pressed against his throat. The strong, steady pulse does very little to comfort him. Dean remembers, with a sudden horror, the sight of Raphael's vessel at the hospital, drooling, unmoving, and completely unaware. Was that Sam's fate now? Did Lucifer set Sam free only to leave behind an empty shell?

He would never know if Sam did not _wake up._

"Sammy please," Dean begs. Castiel's hand rests on Sam's forehead. He holds his breath until Castiel finally says something.

"He's...alive."

"And?"

Castiel shakes his head tensely. "I...I don't know."

Dean finds himself shaking his head as well. "Wh-what do you mean? 'You don't know'? What does that mean! Cas!"

"It means I don't know!" Castiel shouts, meeting Dean's eyes for the first time since they returned to the hotel room. Behind them he can see what little grace is left swirling, like hurricanes trapped in rain puddles. "Sam is breathing and alive, but otherwise I..." he trails off, looking away and back down at Sam. "I can't tell the extent of the mental damage--if there is any--until he wakes up."

_If he wakes up,_ Dean's mind supplies bitterly. He releases Sam's neck to rub his tired eyes.

"What do we do, Cas?"

"The only thing we can do now is wait."

Dean chuckles bitterly. "I was afraid you were gonna say that."

"I'm sorry I'm of little help."

"No, no," Dean says, and he feels a lot older than 31. Closer to 101 really. Which, if one is counting the years he spent in hell, he may as well could be. "It's not your fault, Cas."

Castiel says nothing, just continues to look at Sam. Together, they lift him up and into the bed furthest from the door. Sam's breath never once stutters.

"I'm gonna call Bobby," Dean says. "He...he'll know what to do." Castiel says nothing as Dean pulls out his phone, just moves towards Sam and rests his hand on his forehead, monitoring his vitals as best as he can.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

The drive to Bobby's is a long one, but he manages to do it in about twenty-four hours. Driving Sam's body to Bobby's isn't nearly as hard as Dean thought it would be. Castiel sits in the back with Sam's propped-up body, and to anyone who was looking in could easily assume Sam was simply sleeping with his head on Castiel's shoulder. Dean could almost pretend it was true.

Bobby is waiting in his wheelchair on the porch. His face is grim as Dean and Castiel pull Sam's limp body out of the back of the car. It's terribly awkward, Sam is huge and even though he certainly filled out his coltish limbs all those years ago he is still all long legs and arms, and trying to carry him to the house in almost impossible until Castiel finally takes Sam in his arms bridal style. He carries him with ease past Bobby on the porch and into the house. Dean pauses at Bobby's side, and the old hunter holds a hand up before Dean can even manage to open his mouth.

"It's alright, Dean," he says. "You can explain later. Right now, let's just get him settled."

Dean swallows thickly and nods, following Bobby into the house.

Castiel is standing in the living room, Sam still in his arms. "Will the couch do?"

"Yeah, go ahead and set him there," Bobby says, wheeling himself over to Castiel's side. "He still breathin'?"

"Yes," Castiel answers. "And he doesn't appear to have any physical injuries. Nothing internal or external." He looks down and away. "I'm afraid I can't be of any help. In my...weakened state, all I can really do is observe his condition and hope it improves."

Bobby takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. "It's alright, son. There ain't much any of us can do at this point."

Dean is leaning against the doorway as he stares at his brother's limp body on the couch. It feels like Cold Oak all over again. He rubs his tired face. He needs a drink. Or two. Or twelve. Hell, the world was ending. Why not just drink until it was over?

Bobby and Castiel are staring at him in a way that makes Dean think he might have said that out loud.

"What?" Dean asks. He doesn't even have the strength to sound snappy, he just sounds tired.

"Nothin'," Bobby says. "I've got extra sheets upstairs in the linen closet. Spare bedroom's where it's always been." Dean nods and Bobby wheels his way to his side. He firmly grips Dean's forearm and it takes all of Dean's willpower to keep himself from breaking down.

"He'll be alright," Dean forces past his tight throat. "He'll--he'll be okay."

"I know he will, Dean. Now go get some rest. You've been driving non-stop for two days, I know you have. Cas 'n I will watch over Sam for now."

Dean just nods and walks away, counts the number of steps it takes to get from the living room to the spare bedroom--thirty-seven, the same it's been since he stopped growing--and when he hits the tiny, beat-up mattress that has to be as old as he is, he passes out.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

Sam wakes up in the middle of the night to the crippling, gnawing pain of an empty stomach. After the initial grogginess that came with sleeping for a while longer than one intended, Sam becomes aware of his surroundings. He is in Bobby's living room. Which is weird, because last thing he remembers is--

Sam tenses. Lucifer. Saying yes. Feeling like he was trying to hold onto a hurricane with his bare hands. And then...

He blinks. He remembers finding God, watching everything through Lucifer's eyes, feeling his fear, his anger, his desperation, and his despair.

He remembers God saying no.

Slowly, Sam pushes himself up. He is alone at the moment, though he can hear someone in the kitchen. It is dark, and the only light Sam can see is the faint refrigerator light.

"Dean?" he calls out. His throat hurts and he is starving and he is _scared_ because where is Lucifer? If Sam is here and in control then _what the hell happened?_

Dean is by Sam's side in an instant, gripping his shoulders and saying his name over and over.

"Sammy? Sam! Jesus Christ, Sam, you scared the hell out of me."

"I--I'm sorry, I--"

"No, no, it's fine, Sam, God, it's fine." Dean wraps his arms around Sam's shoulder and holds on for dear life. "It's fine, it's fine, everything's fine."

"Dean, I'm okay," Sam says, because he feels like he should. "I'm okay."

"Yeah," Dean breathes. "Yeah, okay. Yeah.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Sam taking deep breaths and Dean mumbling "You're okay, Sammy, everything's okay," like Sam was not the one who just woke up after being unconscious for however long.

Eventually, Dean pulls back, though he does not let go of Sam's shoulders. He looks Sam in the eyes and asks "How do you feel? Does anything hurt?"

"No, uh," Sam shakes his head. "My stomach hurts. I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks...how long was I out?"

Dean gives him a dry chuckle. "Yeah. About a week. Six days actually."

Sam blinks. "Six days? What--what happened? Where...where's Lucifer?"

Dean looks away and shakes his head. "Sam, maybe you should eat something first."

Sam wants to argue, but he knows Dean will not budge until he at least eats a little bit. "Fine. But then you're gonna tell me everything that happened."

Dean nods. "Yeah. Promise. Just, c'mon." He pulls Sam to his feet and helps him stumble into the kitchen where Sam nearly collapses into a chair. Dean throws together a sandwich, and Sam eats it so fast he almost throws it back up.

"Whoa, easy there, big guy," Dean says, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You're supposed to chew your food." Sam nods, taking several deep breaths before meeting Dean's eyes.

"Tell me what happened."

"C'mon, at least eat a little bit more."

"I'm fine. I want to know what happened."

"Sam."

"I said yes, Dean," Sam says. "I said yes, so why am I here? Why isn't Lucifer off ending the world with his true vessel? Where did he go?"

Dean clenches his jaw and shakes his head. "I don't know."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?"

Dean sighs and rubs his face. "Here. Let me...let me explain everything." He starts from the moment Sam said yes, then explains their race to find God before he disappeared again, and then the aftermath of God's refusal.

Sam is silent until Dean is finished. "Lucifer just...left?"

"Yeah."

"Where? Hell?"

"That's what he said."

Sam shakes his head and rubs his face. "Why? Why would he do that?"

Dean sighs. "I don't know. I wish I did...I'm sorry Sam."

Sam nods. "I just...wish I knew why, I guess." Sam stares down at his hands on the table. Dean watches him for a long moment before finally standing.

"I'll make you another sandwich," Dean says as he walks to the fridge. "Then I'll go wake Bobby."

"Where's Cas?" Sam asks.

"He's...resting."

Sam frowns and looks over at Dean by the counter. "Resting? Is he..."

"Human?" Dean asks. "No. No, he's just..." Dean sighs. "I don't know, Sam." And there. Sam could hear it, easy. The defeated tone in his brother's voice. Sam feels like he's going to be sick.

"Dean, you...we can't give up."

"Sam..."

"No!" Sam says. "No! No way! Not after how far we've come! You can't!"

"What else are we supposed to do, Sam?!" Dean shouts. The mayonnaise covered knife goes flying into the sink. "God won't help us! We lost the only archangel on our side! Our team to save the world consists of three humans and an angel! An angel who's getting weaker and weaker by the second, one of those humans is paralyzed from the waist down, and the other two are on Heaven and Hell's most wanted list!" Dean is breathing hard by the end of it, and Sam can feel his own heart pounding in his ears. Dean continues, quieter this time. "So forgive me if I don't exactly see us walking away from this one, Sam."

"So it started up again?" Sam asks. "The demons? The omens? The apocalypse?"

Dean doesn't say anything, turning his back to Sam.

Sam blinks. "It hasn't, has it?"

Bobby wheels in at that moment, Castiel by his side. "What the hell are you breakin' in here, boy?" Bobby says, and freezes when he sees Sam.

Sam stands, giving Bobby a small smile. "Hey, Bobby."

Bobby just stares open mouthed for a long moment, before he shakes himself out of it and says "What the hell are you waitin' for? Get over here and hug me, you crazy bastard."

Sam huffs out a laugh and makes his way over on shaky legs, bending down to hug his surrogate father tightly.

Castiel freezes suddenly on his way into the kitchen. Bobby notices it first and releases the hold he has on Sam.

"Cas?" he asks. "You alright?"

He says nothing, but his brow is furrowed. Sam and Dean raise an eyebrow as Bobby gives them a look.

"Don't look at me," Dean says. "Maybe he's just buffering."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Cas? Are you okay?"

"Something is coming," he says. "But I'm...not entirely sure what."

Bobby has already grabbed his gun and Dean is by the front door by the time Sam registers the cool, icy feeling starting at the back of his neck, the smell of snow, and the way the noise around them seems to muffle.

"Wait," Sam says. "Wait, Cas, do you--do you feel that?"

"I feel something," Castiel specifies. "I don't know what it is."

Sam stands, still wobbly from that morning, and rushes out onto the porch.

He sees Lucifer. Standing out by the impala in his old vessel. He looks just as surprised as Sam feels. Sam hardly registers it when Dean, Castiel, and Bobby join him out on the porch.

"Sam, it might be a trap," Dean says immediately. His voice is hard, but not harsh, like he needs to prepare Sam for the worst of it. For a moment, Sam envisions being twelve again and gearing himself up to ask John to sign a permission slip.

"It's not," Sam and Castiel say. Sam walks down the steps, hand tightly gripping the railing. Lucifer does not move from his spot beside the impala, though his eyes follow Sam as the hunter slowly makes his way towards him.

"So," Sam says when he stops within arms reach of Lucifer. "You're back." He wonders if Lucifer can hear the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

"I suppose I am." He gives Sam a soft smile.

"Where were you?" he asks. He nearly winces at the pathetic whisper it comes out to be.

Lucifer's face falls at Sam's tone. "Hell," he tells him, almost guiltily. "The Cage, to be specific."

Sam frowns. "Why? Why would you go back there after all this time?"

"It was the only way to ensure that Michael would not come for me. Hell is the one place he will never travel." He pauses, and his cold blue eyes never waver from Sam's warm hazel ones. "My Father wants Michael and I to kill each other," he says after a moment. "That is something that I truly don't want. Not at the expense of your life."

Sam shakes his head. "But now you're back," he repeats. "In Nick's vessel."

"You are right about one thing," Lucifer says as he takes a single step forward. "I am back, but I no longer share this vessel."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Nick is gone. This body...it belongs to me, now."

Sam blinks. "Is he dead, then? Is he...in hell?"

Lucifer frowns and finally looks away from Sam. "I was unable to find him in Hell," he answers. He looks back up at Sam, looking _apologetic_ of all things. "I honestly don't know where his soul has been sent, Sam."

Sam swallows thickly and nods. Steeling himself, he takes several deeps breaths before throwing his arms around Lucifer and pulling him close. The archangel is cool beneath his touch, despite them both standing out in the South Dakota sun. Lucifer is still for a moment, before he eventually rests his hands on Sam's back.

"See?" Sam says eventually. "Hugs are nice."

Lucifer hums, and Sam can feel the coolness of his breath against his shoulder. "They are. Although, I'm not sure I would appreciate anyone else touching me this way."

The laugh that bubbles out of Sam's throat takes the both of them by surprise. After that, Sam cannot seem to stop. The hysterical laughter turns into choked back sobs, then into outright blubbering, and it takes Sam and embarrassingly long amount of time before he registers the gravel biting into his knees, Dean's warm hand on his back and his voice in his ears telling him to _breathe, Sam, you're okay, everything's okay._

"I'm sorry," Sam chokes out, because Lucifer is in front of him looking confused, concerned, and suspicious (of Dean, most likely) all at once. "It's just--" he waves one hand around while the other rubs at his wet face. "--everything's finally hitting me at once, I guess."

"Why don't we all go inside," Castiel suggests somewhere behind Sam. "Then Lucifer can, perhaps, explain what happened better."

Lucifer nods, though he remains in his crouched position in front of Sam.

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

It is warm, but not too warm that Sam is unbearable. He has a beer in his hand given to him by Dean after he was deemed healthy enough to drink, despite him being awake for a few days now.

Lucifer has made himself a place by Sam's side. He insisted on overseeing Sam's recovery when Sam refused to let him heal him. All he needed was a few days rest and a good meal or two.

Bobby, however, had no problem with letting the devil heal his legs. He spent the next couple days doing nothing but walk laps around the junk yard.

Sam is leaning against the front of the impala when Lucifer finds him

"So," Sam says when Lucifer joins him. "That's it then? No more apocalypse? It's all over?"

"Yes. And no," Lucifer answers as he settles next to Sam against the impala. "Michael is, I'm sure, les than pleased by this turn of events. As are the demons. And that Crowley character is probably building a rebellion as we speak." He turns to look at Sam, and Lucifer is struck once more by the beauty of this creature he had sworn to hate so long ago. "It's far from over, Sam."

"Are you worried?"

"Why, are you?"

Sam bites his lip for a moment and thinks--thinks of all the things that could go wrong, with angels and demons on their tails once again, and God pointedly refusing to get in the middle any longer...

Sam can hear Dean and Castiel chatting idly a distance away. Lucifer's hip is cool where it is pressed against his own.

Sam smiles, looks at Lucifer, then looks ahead of them at the road. "No. I'm not worried."

Lucifer nods. "Then neither am I."

* * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * *

> “Anger is like flowing water; there's nothing wrong with it as long as you let it flow. Hate is like stagnant water; anger that you denied yourself the freedom to feel, the freedom to flow; water that you gathered in one place and left to forget. Stagnant water becomes dirty, stinky, disease-ridden, poisonous, deadly; that is your hate. On flowing water travels little paper boats; paper boats of forgiveness. Allow yourself to feel anger, allow your waters to flow, along with all the paper boats of forgiveness. Be human.”

**― C. JoyBell C.**


End file.
